My harrows, blades, and plows are rusting
In the fields, exposed to the weather
Where I left them. My heart went lusting
For a new labour, as it’s ever

Done, and I forgot about them there
Just like the new project I’d begun,
For I laboured some while it was fair
But hid from the rain and blazing sun.

I left my fields uncultivated,
A million things undone, maybe more.
It’s clear to see my life’s frustrated,
Being too prone to give up and bore.