TO work is good, to saw your wood, while yet the sun is shining, to make the hoe move to and fro, where pumpkin vines are twining. For men who shirk all useful work are never happy mortals, by any chancethey do not dance and fill the air with chortles. But don't, my lad, make work a fad, the end and aim of living; for every day some time to play all toilers should be giving. In this broad land we beat the band, the way we hump and hustle; we keep up steam and work and scheme, and wear out mind and muscle. While young in years, above our ears the gray of age is showing; it would be best to stop and rest, but still we keep on going. Then something snapsthe brain, perhapsbeyond all cures or patches, and we are shown to walls of stone, to cells in booby hatches. To work is grand, but stay your hand, when comes the evening playtime; take in the shows and things like those, and leave your tasks for daytime. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHERHOOD by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE FIRST AIR-RAID WARNING by EVELYN D. BANGAY SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 9. WHEN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE WARTONS AND OTHER EARLY ROMANTIC LANDSCAPE-POETS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |