O, how full of briers is this working-day world.
O, how full of briers is this working-day world.
Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
There's not a piece of feather in our host-
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly-
And time hath worn us into slovenry.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories