The golden hours that April brought are spent. Unmindful of the value of a day, I lavishly bestowed them all. Now May Is here; and I have paused in solemn bent To count my profit, or perchance repent If folly's all I've gained. Long hours of play I find -- some duties done, some dreams, and gay Hours interspersed with pain and discontent. I really wanted comradeship above All else; and worthy tasks, not pantomime; I wanted purple hills, and books, and love, And song. Ah, well! I cannot hoard my time, Nor keep it save in memory; yet I Should learn to choose more wisely when I buy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN THE BROOK by ROBERT FROST PORTRAIT BY PICHER by FRANCES BAKER PAUPER PETE'S SONG by MATHILDE BLIND WE WALKED AMONG THE WHISPERING PINES by JOHN HENRY BONER NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE SUFFERER by VINCENT BOURNE |