An Exhortation of True Work over Homework

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Where thoughts released, to paper, happ’ly fly

From minds of scholars ‘voiding ‘ficial tasks

Great thoughts, which if confined, might rather die

Thus find eternal life in annals vast.

 

Though idle thoughts they are, important not

To any purpose meas’rable by gain

‘Tis better that they gather dust, not rot

Lest wasted would be true work of the brain.

 

What matters, in the end, our daily grind?

Though ‘stuteness in one’s work’s a noble way

“Play well thy part,” recalls the prudent mind

Adhered too far, this dictum wastes away.

 

Indeed, ‘tis true, that usefulness benign

To one’s associations keeps one’s bread

In drudgery, true character we find

Yet on its own, such drudgery’s to dread.

 

Each piece of work, in proper place, must fall

Too little’s such a curse as is too much

And when the precious balance perm’eates all

‘Tis crudely sensitive to slightest touch.

 

But, hear this; when the power of the mind

Is spent ‘pon subjects which push not its growth

Stagnation, degradation dulls its shine

And vigor’s subtly pushed aside by sloth.

 

Therefore, when given options with thy time-

One’s chores and duties, or one’s mindful joys-

First strive for pleasant balance, peaceful rhyme

But if thou’rt forced, erase all static noise!

 

Perhaps ‘tis not a prudent couns’ling here

For often, those who conquer ‘cept the grind

As price of greatness, when to’it they draw near

Thus is the mark of wise, sagacious mind

 

But if thou’d live this life, and live alive!

while ly’ing in bed, some questions should arise:

Didst thou, to-day, live honest with thyself?

Didst thou, today, instead, do otherwise?

 

Art thou content with all thy works today?

Dost thou rest free in conscience, free in soul?

To live alive, there is no other way-

“To thine own self, be true!” the bell doth toll.

 

One day the worms will rest within thy bones

Their offspring chewing ‘pon what meat remains

In some celestial world might live thy soul

‘Ton Earth, thou’ll ‘xist but by fruit of thy brains.

 

Therefore, thy legacy, thou must build now

While God, in splendid mercy, ‘llows thee life

Select, then, for thy monument, what shall

Bring to thy memory fine acc’lades rife!

 

For when the Father taketh thee to rest

You’ll find His kingdom far unlike our land.

Now’s thy last chance to give this world thy best-

Let not dull duties fold thy finest hand!

 

Each one, an artist, in his deepest depths

Constrained by this real’ty’s iron laws

Composite mortal beings with air for breath

Must do their best, with all their strengths and flaws!

 

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