LIKE coral insects multitudinous The minutes are whereof our life is made. They build it up as in the deep's blue shade It grows, it comes to light, and then, and thus For both there is an end. The populous Sea-blossoms close, our minutes that have paid Life's debt of work are spent; the work is laid Before their feet that shall come after us. We may not stay to watch if it will speed, The bard if on some luter's string his song Live sweetly yet; the hero if his star Doth shine. Work is its own best earthly meed, Else have we none more than the sea-born throng Who wrought those marvellous isles that bloom afar. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SNOW-SHOWER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT LINCOLN by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE MARSEILLAISE by CLAUDE JOSEPH ROUGET DE LISLE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 14 by PHILIP SIDNEY ON A MOURNER by ALFRED TENNYSON WINTER MOUNTAIN by MARIANA BACHMAN THE SOLDIER'S TEAR by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY PSALM 102 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 17 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |