Vampires

Day in, day out, we toil,
Early rising, racing with the sun;
Often missing the mark,
The sun beating his breast.
Heaving, we curse with clenched fist
At another spoiling of our vow
To triumph over the sun at his game.
And yet upon deep ponderance,
We may thank him for his skill,
For what horror it would be
If the vampires had more time.