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...ECHO by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE PALACE OF ART by ALFRED TENNYSON THE LAMP OF HERO by LOUISE VICTORINE ACKERMANN PORTRAIT BY PICHER by FRANCES BAKER ECCE IN DESERTO by HENRY AUGUSTIN BEERS |