In Which I Reflect On A Productive Day

If only I could keep this, ev'ry day,

The change that's brought about by knowing that

Procrastination's nothing but a way

To duck the "twinge of starting": that my flat

And dull insensibility is fake;

That work, when I'm deep in it, is a joy

In which I lose myself, in which I make

A day into a wonder. By what ploy

May I remember this, that once I start

I'm happy, and it isn't toil; that chores

Just sound that way; that once I give my heart

To what I'm doing, nothing ever bores

Or pains me? This, perhaps, is my real task

As this year starts to wear on, if you ask.