A grimace at once gold ways the day was spent,
In toiling towns, in service for the sun,
Breaks file and feels it’s futile in repent.
The coffin-maker could make rich relent
If his frame housed one frown that had undone
A grimace at once gold ways the day was spent.
The plumber’s love, yet not his wet intent,
And not the dry days, which he’d worked and won,
Breaks file and feels it’s futile in repent.
The butcher gives bare time a grey assent,
But grows, like a killing-smile he cannot shun,
A grimace at once gold ways the day was spent.
The banker longs to lose all that he’s lent
When the simple smile, with which the deals were done,
Breaks file and feels it’s futile in repent.
When free, it is a terminating torrent,
It grounds high lives and makes the worthy none;
A grimace at once gold ways the day was spent
Breaks file and feels it’s futile in repent.
Sean Godley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-grimace-at-once-gold-ways-the-day-was-spent/
