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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358186" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Tired Worker</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358186" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O whisper, O my soul! The afternoon <br>Is waning into evening, whisper soft! <br>Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moon <br>From out its misty veil will swing aloft! <br>Be patient, weary body, soon the night <br>Will wrap thee gently in her sable sheet, <br>And with a leaden sigh thou wilt invite <br>To rest thy tired hands and aching feet. <br>The wretched day was theirs, the night is mine; <br>Come tender sleep, and fold me to thy breast. <br>But what steals out the gray clouds like red wine? <br>O dawn! O dreaded dawn! O let me rest <br>Weary my veins, my brain, my life! Have pity! <br>No! Once again the harsh, the ugly city.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Claude+McKay">Claude McKay</a></strong></div>

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