Poetry.
WORK. ‘Tis wort for work’s sake that man’s needing; Let him work on and on if speeding Work’s end. A spare horse ? Be rather a thill horsej Or—what’s the plain truth —just a mill-horse! Earth’s a mill where we grind and wear mufflers ; A whip awaits shirkers and shufflers Who slacken their pace, sick of tigging At what don’t advance for their tugging. J hough round goes the mill, we must still post On and on as if moving the mill-post. So, grind away mouth-wise and pen-wise, Do all that we can to make men wise! And if men prefer to be foolish, Ourselves have proved horselike, not mulish; Sent grist a good sackful, to hopper, ‘ And worked as the Master thought proper. Things rarely go smooth at rehearsal, Wait patiently the change universal, And act, and let act, in existence. Egbert Browning.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SOCR18941201.2.34
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Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 36, 1 December 1894, Page 12
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144Poetry. Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 36, 1 December 1894, Page 12
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