How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting read more

How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting drudgery and care!
How many a vulgar Cato has compelled
His energies, no longer tameless then,
To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail!

Light burthens, long borne, growe heavie.
[Light burdens, long borne, grow heavy.]

Light burthens, long borne, growe heavie.
[Light burdens, long borne, grow heavy.]

Everyone enjoys doing the kind of work for which he is best suited.

Everyone enjoys doing the kind of work for which he is best suited.

I look on that man as happy, who, when there is a question of success, looks into his work for read more

I look on that man as happy, who, when there is a question of success, looks into his work for a reply.

I have had my labor for my travail; ill-thought-on of her, and
ill-thought-on of you; gone between and between, read more

I have had my labor for my travail; ill-thought-on of her, and
ill-thought-on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks
for my labor.

No man is born into the world whose work
Is not born with him: there is always work,
read more

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!

Like every man of sense and good feeling, I abominate work.

Like every man of sense and good feeling, I abominate work.

Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
read more

Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
Honest Englishmen.
Do the work that's nearest
Though it's dull at whiles,
Helping, when we meet them,
Lame dogs over stiles.

For men must work and women must weep,
And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep,
read more

For men must work and women must weep,
And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep,
And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.