Lesson 8 Work

Eliza Cook (b.1817,d.1889) was born at London. In 1837 she commenced contributing to periodicals. In 1840 the first collection of her poems was made. In 1849 she became editor of "Eliza Cook's Journal."

Work,work,my boy,be not afraid;

Look labor boldly in the face;

Take up the hammer or the spade,

And blush not for your humble place.

There's glory in the shuttle's song;

There's triumph in the anvil's stroke;

There's merit in the brave and strong

Who dig the mine or fell the oak.

The wind disturbs the sleeping lake,

And bids it ripple pure and fresh;

It moves the green boughs till they make

Grand music in their leafy mesh.

And so the active breath of life

Should stir our dull and sluggard wills;

For are we not created rife

With health,that stagnant torpor kills?

I doubt if he who lolls his head

Where idleness and plenty meet,

Enjoys his pillow or his bread

As those who earn the meals they eat.

And man is never half so blest

As when the busy day is spent

So as to make his evening rest

A holiday of glad content.