There's such a lot of work to do, for such a troubled head! <br />I’m scribbling this against a book, with foolscap round, in bed. <br />It strikes me that I’ll scribble much in this way by and by, <br />And write my last lines so perchance the day before I die. <br /> <br />There’s lots of things to come and go, and I, in careless rhyme, <br />And drink and love (it wastes the most) have wasted lots of time. <br />There’s so much good work to be done it makes me sure that I <br />Will be the sorriest for my death, the day before I die. <br /> <br />But, lift me dear, for I am tired, and let me taste the wine— <br />And lay your cheek a little while on this lined cheek of mine. <br />I want to say I love you so—your patient love is why <br />I’ll have such little time, you know, the day before I die.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-day-before-i-die/
