Written today, and read today,
And stale the news tomorrow!-
Upon the sands I build… I play!
I play, and weep in sorrow:
“Ah God, dear God! to find cessation
From this soul-crushing occupation!
If but one year ere Thou dost call me Thither,
Lord, at this blighting task let me not wither.”
Journalism
Morris Rosenfeld
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Poem topics: sorrow, dear, soul, year, tomorrow, god, today, play, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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