Checking The Day

'I had a full day in my purse When I arose, and now it's gone! I wonder if I can rehearse The squandered hours, one by one, And count the minutes as I do The pennies and the dimes I've spent. I've had a day, once bright and new, But, oh, for what few things it went! There were twelve hours when I began, Good hours worth sixty minutes each, Yet some of them so swiftly ran I had no time for thought or speech. Eight of them to my task I gave, Glad that it did not ask for mre. Part of the day I tried to save, But now I cannot say what for. An hour I spent for idle chat, Gossip and scandal I confess; No better off am I for that, Would I had talked a little less. I watched steel workers bolt a beam, What time that cost I don't recall. How very short the minutes seem When they are spent on trifles small. Quite empty is my purse to-night Which held at dawn a twelve-hour day, For all of it has taken flight— Part wisely spent, part thrown away. I did my task and earned its gain, But checking deeds with what they cost, Two missing hours I can't explain, They must be charges as lost.'