A Poem

My Work
Henry Van Dyke

Let me do my work from day to day,
In fields or forests, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market place or tranquil room.
Let me find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
“This is my work – my blessing, not my doom –
Of all who live I am the only one by whom
this work can best be done in my own way.”
Then I shall see it, not too great or small,
To suit my spirit and arouse my powers.
Then shall I cheerfully greet the laboring hours,
And cheerfully turn, when long shadows fall
at eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work was best.


This entry was posted in Poetry.

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