Hoidays are very well
But like all else they have to end,
And we must leave their magic spell-
We slaves of life and condesend
to once more bend our sun-burned backs,
To honest labour, sweat and toil.
The miner and the steeple-jack,
The builder, those who tend the soil.
And commit to memory moments dear,
And plan for another one next year.
It is sad that our lives have become such drudgery that the only pleasure we can find is one Holiday a year! We need to get back to the joy of living each day! This is a very good write, Archie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love it! ! I could use a good holiday right now...unfortunately all I have time for is a few moments spent recalling my last holiday///the warm sand...the cool breeze...the starry skies at night...the gorgeous sunny days//// ahhhhhhhhhhh.... There...that feels better! Thanks for that Archie! ! Hugs, Dee