Category: Work

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On Enthusiasm

Enthusiasm should be firm enough
To stand against the fortunes of a day,
And throwing off impedimenta, stay
As fresh, untarnished, as its foes are rough.
In spite of every jeer and each rebuff,
Despite the clever things our critics say,
Regardless of the price we heve to pay,
Our zest for life ought be, of all things, tough.

But, long as men delude themselves, and think
That hard work is a virtue unsurpassed,
That labor is its own hard-earned reward,
That long will man’s enthusiasm shrink
Before midday; and by his sweat outclassed
He will die tired, and miserable, and bored.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, March 7, 1944

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Obvious Cloud

This is a perfect sort of day,
Designed especially for play
With me in mind, and I would like
To take a tour, or maybe hike ,
Or swim, or lounge, or play some golf;
A day for simply taking off
To fish out where the big ones lurk-
It ought to be: I have to work.

by Ray Romine Sunday, August 13, 1950

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Maybe It’s My Move

Neighbors are folks who take off for a week
When my work is hitting the ultimate peak;
They are the people who bi-monthly grieve me
By week-ending somewhere in order to leave me.
They’re off for the south at the first hint of snow,
And as soon as it warms up here, northward they go.
They’re the yokels who tell me, when they’re back from Siam,
And I rate a day off, how fortunate I am!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, May 14, 1952

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Lines Written At Breakfast, More Or Less.

We’ve planned them a scout meet this morning;
We’ve looked up a new word or two;
We’ve started a plan for the garden;
We’ve met an old moth friend anew.
We’ve thought of a plot for a poem;
Of Cunningham’s Comet we’ve read;
We’ve started our shopping on paper,
So Christmas won’t catch us abed.

For these, there is no compensation–
They’re classed as a huge waste of time;
So far as our income’s affected,
They’ll never return us a dime:
But to us, this, our hour in the morning
Is the most worthwhile one of the day,
In spite of the fact that the world says
“For SLAVING ye shall receive pay”.

Perhaps we don’t see the thing clearly
As vainly we peer through the murk–
(Like shipmaster steering by instinct,
Whose compass has done a berserk)–
But why, WHY can’t we be paid for something
That doesn’t our very soul irk?

Our hour of production is over–
It’s time now to go back to work…

by Ray Romine Friday, November 1, 1940

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Lines To An Efficiency Expert

I’m right up to schedule;
I’ve worked like a fiend;
My pencils are sharpened;
My typewriter’s cleaned.

My desk is in order;
I’m neat as a pin;
My ink-well is open–
I hope you drop in.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 3, 1953

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Let’s Take Up Mythology

Some of the Gods and Goddesses
Had wings upon their heels;
They ran from ritzy raiment
To golden chariot wheels.

Some of them were handsome brutes-
Apollo, say, or Zeus;
They tossed off fancy orgies
At the flimsiest excuse.

One God was Chauffeur to the sun;
And one was Errand Boy;
While Venus and Diana too
Did all right looking coy.

And what, you ask, have all these folks
So august and superior
To do with me, one mere milk man
From rank and file inferior?

My wings are just upon my cap;
Claim no good looks or wealth–
Yet, with the products that I sell,
I’m Messenger of Health!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 20, 1950