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 might be That these things shall Be added unto thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALIEN WOMEN; SONGKHLA, THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON THE TRANSFORMATION OF A TEXAS GIRL by JAMES BARTON ADAMS THE TURN OF THE ROAD by JANE BARLOW EMANCIPATION OF THE SERFS by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH |