1 min readA poem on procrastinationHe had a year to do it inSo brushed the thought away,A chap with half his energyMight do it in a day.A year! ‘Twas too ridiculous,As everyone should find;However, he would get it doneAnd have it off his mind.But not today. A few months hence would suit him better still;Meanwhile, a far less irksome jobMight occupy his skill.He would not let the matter passEntirely from him, No; And doubtless he might take it upIn, say a month or so. He had six months to do it in!For six long months had flown;Well, why should that alarm a chapWith talents like his own?The job, whence once embarked upon,Would soon be rattled through;However, he would think of it,In, say, a week or two.He had three months to do it in!"Oh brother!" was his cry;The thing hangs on me like a weight,Each day that passes by.Let's see: three months? Ah, that's enough,But, just to clear the doubt,Make arrangements for a startBefore the month is out. He had a week to do it in!And care was in his glance."It's hard," he cried, "that flight of time,Won't give a chap a chance!"He still delayed, the swift week passed,As weeks will ever run,And though a year was given him,The task was still undone. John Lea in Boys Own Paper (Volume 37 Issue 3, January 1915)
He had a year to do it inSo brushed the thought away,A chap with half his energyMight do it in a day.A year! ‘Twas too ridiculous,As everyone should find;However, he would get it doneAnd have it off his mind.But not today. A few months hence would suit him better still;Meanwhile, a far less irksome jobMight occupy his skill.He would not let the matter passEntirely from him, No; And doubtless he might take it upIn, say a month or so. He had six months to do it in!For six long months had flown;Well, why should that alarm a chapWith talents like his own?The job, whence once embarked upon,Would soon be rattled through;However, he would think of it,In, say, a week or two.He had three months to do it in!"Oh brother!" was his cry;The thing hangs on me like a weight,Each day that passes by.Let's see: three months? Ah, that's enough,But, just to clear the doubt,Make arrangements for a startBefore the month is out. He had a week to do it in!And care was in his glance."It's hard," he cried, "that flight of time,Won't give a chap a chance!"He still delayed, the swift week passed,As weeks will ever run,And though a year was given him,The task was still undone. John Lea in Boys Own Paper (Volume 37 Issue 3, January 1915)
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