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Work thou for pleasure--paint or sing or carve
The thing thou lovest, though the body starve--
Who read more
Work thou for pleasure--paint or sing or carve
The thing thou lovest, though the body starve--
Who works for glory misses oft the goal;
Who works for money coins his very soul.
Work for the work's sake, then, and it may be
That these things shall be added unto thee.
The fiction pleased; our generous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise.
The work she read more
The fiction pleased; our generous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise.
The work she plyed, but, studious of delay,
Each following night reversed the toils of day.
With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn read more
With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn in the little seed, brown and dry,
Turn out the golden millet.
Work, and your house shall be duly fed:
Work, and rest shall be won;
I hold that a man had better be dead
Than alive when his work is done.
The best preparation for good work tomorrow is to do good work today.
The best preparation for good work tomorrow is to do good work today.
When Adam dalfe and Eve spane
So spire if thou may spede,
Where was then the pride read more
When Adam dalfe and Eve spane
So spire if thou may spede,
Where was then the pride of man,
That nowe merres his mede?
Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.
Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.
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!
Too long, that some may rest,
Tired millions toil unblest.
Too long, that some may rest,
Tired millions toil unblest.
When Darby saw the setting sun
He swung his scythe, and home he run,
Sat down, drank read more
When Darby saw the setting sun
He swung his scythe, and home he run,
Sat down, drank off his quart and said,
"My work is done, I'll go to bed."
"My work is done!" retorted Joan,
"My work is done! Your constant tone,
But hapless woman ne'er can say
'My work is done' till judgment day."
