Another day of toil and strife, <br />Another page so white, <br />Within that fateful Log of Life <br />That I and all must write; <br />Another page without a stain <br />To make of as I may, <br />That done, I shall not see again <br />Until the Judgment Day. <br /> <br />Ah, could I, could I backward turn <br />The pages of that Book, <br />How often would I blench and burn! <br />How often loathe to look! <br />What pages would be meanly scrolled; <br />What smeared as if with mud; <br />A few, maybe, might gleam like gold, <br />Some scarlet seem as blood. <br /> <br />O Record grave, God guide my hand <br />And make me worthy be, <br />Since what I write to-day shall stand <br />To all eternity; <br />Aye, teach me, Lord of Life, I pray, <br />As I salute the sun, <br />To bear myself that every day <br />May be a Golden One.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/golden-days/
