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...A CHRISTMAS GHOST-STORY; CHRISTMAS-EVE 1899 by THOMAS HARDY PORTRAIT BY A NEIGHBOR by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY HE MOURNS FOR THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND BELOVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE KING'S HAND by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II FROST-WORK by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IN THE WATER by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |