The Wasted Day
Another day let slip! Its hours have run, Its golden hours, with prodigal excess, All run to waste. A day of life the less; Of many wasted days, alas, but one! Through my west window streams the setting sun. I kneel within my chamber, and confess My sin and sorrow, filled with vain distress, In place of honest joy for work well done. At noon I passed some labourers in a field. The sweat ran down upon each sunburnt face, Which shone like copper in the ardent glow. And one looked up, with envy unconcealed, Beholding my cool cheeks and listless pace, Yet he was happier, though he did not know.
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"Another day let slip! Its hours have run,..."
Robert Fuller Murray's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Wasted Day"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...