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<h2>THE WASTED DAY</h2>
<p>Another day let slip! Its hours have run,<br/>
Its golden hours, with prodigal excess,<br/>
All run to waste. A day of life the less;<br
/>
Of many wasted days, alas, but one!</p>
<p>Through my west window streams the setting sun.<br/>
I kneel within my chamber, and confess<br/>
My sin and sorrow, filled with vain distress,<br/>
In place of honest joy for work well done.</p>
<p>At noon I passed some labourers in a field.<br/>
The sweat ran down upon each sunburnt face,<br/>
Which shone like copper in the
ardent glow.<br/>
And one looked up, with envy unconcealed,<br/>
Beholding my cool cheeks and listless pace,<br/>
Yet he was happier, though he did
not know.</p>
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