At a Teachers College

What flamed across your path at this late day, burned
out,
And left you looking tired?
The years you should have spent here, held you festive
rout,
Then red-cheeked and admired?
Or by something sacrificial, immolating, was your soul
In self-denial fired?
. . . Or shiftless, dreamless, year by year, a wit of clay,
Have you been slowly mired ?

^__Margaret E. Haughawout.

Sheep's Clothing
Margaret E. Haughawout
Page 48
(Pittsburg, Kansas: __. 1929)