The Waiting Life - Poem by Dorothea Mackellar
Since it befell, with work and strife
I had not time to live my life
I turned away from it until
Work should be done and strife be still.
My hands and head for use are free,
Nor does my own life worry me,
But docile as a spaniel waits
Until this present stress abates.
Tranquil it breathes, and waits, I know,
With all its joy contained. But oh
I hope when I have time to play
My life will not have run away!
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