Pocket Your Time

Come home thou youth, Away from that gory hill, Of youthful restiveness. Neglect the play, To accomplish the work. For there is reward , In gainful employ, Wash thy feet, with the dew of dawn, And kill thy sleep, Like a transient yawn, Strike thy past, with iron fist, that thou may rightly align, And be, coming up roses, Pocket your time, with toil and sweat, Then touch the sky, No more to roam.