Workman’s poem
The days glide by
in the darkening monotony
of the failing year.
A brick is laid
as the days glide by
in the darkening monotony.
The road is built,
a brick is laid,
as the days glide by.
When do we realize
the road is built,
a brick is laid?
What do we do
when we realize
the road is built?
We rest
and work no more.