When your hands and head are weary, And your soul has lost its song; When the road is hot and dreary, And the way seems very long; When you have no heart for action, When you need the spur and rod, -- There's a world of satisfaction In a plod, plod, plod! Just to see the task before you, And forget the distant goal; Just to bid Renown ignore you, And to bear a humble soul; Just to trudge along contented Where the many feet have trod, -- There's no better rest invented Than a plod, plod, plod! Let the genius leap to glory -- Winged feet that spurn the soil; Though I think the truer story Is that talents always toil. We will make a reputation From a broom, a hoe, a hod; There are fame and fascination In a plod, plod, plod! For in this way and no other Do the seasons come and go, And the great world is a brother To the toiler with his hoe; Near to nature working slowly, We are close to nature's God When we give our spirits wholly To a plod, plod, plod! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NAMING FOR LOVE by HAYDEN CARRUTH TO BAYARD TAYLOR by SIDNEY LANIER VILLANELLE OF CHANGE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A VAGABOND SONG by BLISS CARMAN POPPIES IN THE WHEAT by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON THE RIVER STOUR by WILLIAM BARNES |