Now, as my coffee swiftly drains away,
I ready me to face another day
Of work. These weeks, I have no time to play,
No time to smell those flowers I pass by,
Though they are fragrant as they grow up high
From roadsides. I still have not found out why
They burgeon there, but I don’t need to know
To find in them delight, nor they to grow
Demand I see or smell them. I must go
About those tasks for which I am yet paid,
Must not in them let myself be delayed;
Failure’s consequences are not stayed
Because I stayed and smelled to my delight
Those growing glories under mornings’ light.

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