Have ye a day that bears the glare
Of the flaming morning sun?
Have ye a day the mind may search,
Weighing what ye have done?
Have ye a day ye are satisfied
Will stand the acid test —
From the first gray strand of the eastern skies
To the last red glow in the west?
Have ye a day ye grappled with
And hurled in mortal throes,
When,‘ bove the white horizon,
The Great Occasion rose?
Mayhap the World bore witness
To the things of your Golden Day:
Mayhap it is locked from the gaze of men,
And ye've thrown the key away.