1 min read
Слушать

The Tired Worker

O whisper,

O my soul!

The afternoon Is waning into evening, whisper soft!

Peace,

O my rebel heart! for soon the moon From out its misty veil will swing aloft!

Be patient, weary body, soon the night Will wrap thee gently in her sable sheet,

And with a leaden sigh thou wilt invite To rest thy tired hands and aching feet.

The wretched day was theirs, the night is mine;

Come tender sleep, and fold me to thy breast.

But what steals out the gray clouds like red wine?

O dawn!

O dreaded dawn!

O let me rest Weary my veins, my brain, my life!

Have pity!

No!

Once again the harsh, the ugly city.

0
0
52
Give Award

Claude McKay

Festus Claudius "Claude" McKay (September 15, 1889[1] – May 22, 1948) was a Jamaican writer and poet, and was a central figure in the Harlem Ren…

Other author posts

Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments

Reading today

Цветок поражения
Сознание
Ryfma
Ryfma is a social app for writers and readers. Publish books, stories, fanfics, poems and get paid for your work. The friendly and free way for fans to support your work for the price of a coffee
© 2024 Ryfma. All rights reserved 12+