LIKE coral insects multitudinous The minutes are whereof our life is made. They build it up as in the deep's blue shade It grows, it comes to light, and then, and thus For both there is an end. The populous Sea-blossoms close, our minutes that have paid Life's debt of work are spent; the work is laid Before their feet that shall come after us. We may not stay to watch if it will speed, The bard if on some luter's string his song Live sweetly yet; the hero if his star Doth shine. Work is its own best earthly meed, Else have we none more than the sea-born throng Who wrought those marvellous isles that bloom afar. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SIMON LEGREE: NEGRO SERMON; MEMORIAL TO BOOKER T. WASHINGTON by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY FOOTLIGHT MOTIFS: 4. NATALIE ALT by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 6. TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQ., WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU by MARK AKENSIDE QUIETNESS by ANNE MILLAY BREMER |