The Poet Student

It's terrible when there's nothing to write on--
When I can think of nothing to say--
Something to stifle my urge to yawn,
And distract my mind for the day.

The good doctor's voice drones on like a bee,
And the classroom is stlil and warm--
O! what I'd give for ten minutes of sleep!
A class after lunch does such harm!

So I dream of my time at the tavern
and wait for the bell to ring--
Ending my torture forever
(Or at least 'till tomorrow morning).

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