Envoi
If I have taught one soul to feel that life
Is something higher than the toil and fret,
The pain, the waste of love, the cold and strife
We may not all forget,—
If I have made one hour of pleasure fall
Within the path where torn and weary feet
Move slowly onward, answering duty's call,
Then is my work complete.
Is something higher than the toil and fret,
The pain, the waste of love, the cold and strife
We may not all forget,—
If I have made one hour of pleasure fall
Within the path where torn and weary feet
Move slowly onward, answering duty's call,
Then is my work complete.
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