Weary

Weary, weary, in these winter days

My mind longing for joyous strains

Of feeling pulsing through my veins.

Yet here I stand, or sit, or lie,

As the days keep slipping by

And accomplishing nothing, sigh.

Lethargic in my feckless heart,

Longing for an awakening start

Some experience, piercing and tart.

Caught up in the prongs of appetite

Tossed in the winds of cheap delight

Wake up! Wake up! Begin your fight!

The winter shall pass, the night be gone

The sun shall shine, your arms be strong

As you stride forth into the dawn.

Recalled to life will be the delight

Of working, steadily, with that internal might

The will to strive and improve, whate’er the plight.