James Russell Lowell

No man is born into the world whose work
Is not born with him: there is always work,
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No man is born into the world whose work
Is not born with him: there is always work,
And tools to work withal, for those who will;
And blessed are the horny hand of toil!

The future works out great men's destinies;
The present is enough for common souls,
Who, never looking read more

The future works out great men's destinies;
The present is enough for common souls,
Who, never looking forward, are indeed
Mere clay wherein the footprints of their age
Are petrified forever.

Sence I've ben here, I've hired a chap to look about for me,
To git me a transplantable an' read more

Sence I've ben here, I've hired a chap to look about for me,
To git me a transplantable an' thrifty fem'ly-tree.

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then read more

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays.

He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
And wandered hither, so his stay
With us read more

He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
And wandered hither, so his stay
With us was short, and 'twas most meet,
That he should be no delver in earth's clod,
Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet
To stand before his God:
O blest word--Evermore!