Poem by Archibald Lampman

One Day

The trees rustle; the wind blows
  Merrily out of the town;
The shadows creep, the sun goes
  Steadily over and down.

In a brown gloom the moats gleam;
  Slender the sweet wife stands;
Her lips are red; her eyes dream;
  Kisses are warm on her hands.

The child moans; the hours slip
  Bitterly over her head:
In a gray dusk, the tears drip;
  Mother is up there dead.

The hermit hears the strange bright
  Murmur of life at play;
In the waste day and the waste night
  Times to rebel and to pray.

The laborer toils in gray wise,
  Godlike and patient and calm;
The beggar moans; his bleared eyes
  Measure the dust in his palm.

The wise man marks the flow and ebb
  Hidden and held aloof:
In his deep mind is laid the web,
  Shuttles are driving the woof.

1. A Ballade of Waiting
2. The King's Sabbath
3. Before Sleep
4. Passion
5. Among the Timothy

Rupert Brooke One Day ("Today I have been happy. All the day") THE PACIFIC, October 1913

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