Work

Ah, blessedness of work! the aimless mind, Left to pursue at will its fancies wild, Returns at length, like some play-wearied child, Unto its labor’s knee, and leaves behind Its little games, and learns to soothe its blind Wide longings in the sweet tranquillity Of limited tasks, whose mild successions wind In pauseless waves unto the distant sea; For blank infinity is cold as ice, And drear the void of space unsown with stars, And dolorous the barren line of shore; Therefore it was with lover-like device This lower world was built, through whose cleft bars The limitless sun of Truth shines more and more.

Collection: 
English
Louis James Block

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