Toil
It is enough! here will I lay me down;
Here on the hard earth's breast, where all day long
I labor, Ithe heir unto a crown,
To whom fair, fruitful fields of right belong,
And easeful hours achieved of no man's wrong.
It is enough! if toil be life's one law
'Twere wiser then, to break the law and die.
What gain by patience? bricks without the straw,
An endless tale, until the end draws nigh,
Then like King Harold, seven feet where to lie.
Here on the hard earth's breast, where all day long
I labor, Ithe heir unto a crown,
To whom fair, fruitful fields of right belong,
And easeful hours achieved of no man's wrong.
It is enough! if toil be life's one law
'Twere wiser then, to break the law and die.
What gain by patience? bricks without the straw,
An endless tale, until the end draws nigh,
Then like King Harold, seven feet where to lie.
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