Excerpt from Hard Labor and Other Poems

Hard Labor

I

I work, and as the task is done I brood
On what has been and what is yet to pass,
A life spilt from an idly-handled glass,
And days as this, an endless multitude.

Labor and brooding - is there then no rest?
Day follows day, and in the silent nights
Throng ghostly memories of past delights,
Faces I loved, and lips that I have pressed,

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