Although I ever did my best, My best was far from good; Although I failed to reach the goal I did the best I could Long days I toiled 'neath burning suns With hands that knew no skill, Although I strove with might and main, The place I could not fill. I longed to write some kindly thought To cheer my fellow men; Alas, the words I could not form Beneath my falt'ring pen. I fain would sing a joyous song To brighten land and sea, But I alone in all the world Have heard the melody. I sought to paint a picture bold To stem the world's mad rush; The colors somehow failed to blend Beneath my faulty brush. And when there comes the long dark night That ends my futile day, And when I stand before the throne What will the Master say? Perhaps He'll turn His grieving face And say: "You must depart." Or, will He take me to His breast With understanding heart? Somehow, I feel He'll say to me: "You did but little good, But enter through the Gates of Peace, You did the best you could." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOPHISTICATION by CONRAD AIKEN FOR REMEMBERING HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU by JAMES GALVIN A MID-DAY DREAMER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SURFACES AND MASKS; 3 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE LANDSCAPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |