Another day let slip! Its hours have run, <br />Its golden hours, with prodigal excess, <br />All run to waste. A day of life the less; <br />Of many wasted days, alas, but one! <br /> <br />Through my west window streams the setting sun. <br />I kneel within my chamber, and confess <br />My sin and sorrow, filled with vain distress, <br />In place of honest joy for work well done. <br /> <br />At noon I passed some labourers in a field. <br />The sweat ran down upon each sunburnt face, <br />Which shone like copper in the ardent glow. <br />And one looked up, with envy unconcealed, <br />Beholding my cool cheeks and listless pace, <br />Yet he was happier, though he did not know.<br /><br />Robert Fuller Murray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wasted-day/
