A Toiler's Plaint
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A TOILER’S PLAINT.
By David Diamondstein.
You may sing of sunshine and flowers,
Of the beauty and joy of spring;
But for me the day’s long hours
Naught but weariness bring.
I weep when the sun is a-shining,
For I know not how this may be,
That I, a man, am slaving,
While beasts in the woods are free.
The birds that live in the forests
Are happily soaring about;
They sing to the glory of nature
As they till their loved one’s mouth.
The bees that hum in the meadow
Give praise to the glorious sun;
They embrace and kiss the flowers
‘Till the livelong day is done.
While I, who am made in “God’s image,”
Am sweating my life away;
And I long for the night’s fair bosom,
While I hate and I curse the day.
I curse the day with its noises,
Its hurry, and worry, and wrath.
For the best of my life has it taken
And leaves me a prey unto Death.
David Diamondstein, “A Toiler’s Plaint,” Mother Earth 1, no. 7 (September 1906): 26.