TODAY

I woke up early with these lines of someone else's poetry running through my head:

So here hath been dawning another blue day.
Think: will thou let it slip useless away?

But I didn't know the author or the rest of the poem, so I googled it and can now present it to you in its entirety.

                  TODAY  (Thomas Carlyle, 1795-1881)

So here hath been dawning another blue day.
Think: will thou let it slip useless away?
Out of Eternity this new day was born;
Into Eternity at night will return.

Behold it aforetime; no eye ever did.
So soon it forever from all eyes is hid.
So here hath been dawning another blue day.
Think: will thou let it slip useless away?


     Wow. How's that for a guilt trip, huh?  Thanks, Thomas Carlyle of Scotland, a.k.a. the Sage of Chelsea, for reaching down through 150 years to seize my shoulder in your Calvinist clutch.
     It really is an intensely blue day today, though. Brilliant sun, low humidity. So I ask myself: What Would Carlyle Do? Based on his bio, I'm guessing he wouldn't have headed for the beach. He probably would have spent the blue day Thinking Great Thoughts while his wife arranged the guest list of Other Great White Male Thinkers for their evening salon.
     Me, I'm going to do my post-vacation supermarket run this morning, and probably go for a short hike with my husband and dogs in the afternoon. And then later I'll make dinner and catch up on some laundry. And yes, Thomas Carlyle, I'm going to try to once and for all finish up my manuscript and stop torturing myself redoing the first few lines for the umpteenth time, so I can submit it to the editor who said she'd love to see it when it's done. And if all of that fails to meet Thomas Carlyle's standards, as I suspect it would, then I have nothing to say in my defense to that eminent, dour Victorian gentleman and possible pre-Fascist. I can only do what is in my power to do.
     Reader: have a happy blue day.