Monday, November 16, 2020

THE BUILDERS - by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 




THE  BUILDERS  

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow




     All are architects of Fate,

    Working in these walls of Time;

    Some with massive deeds and great,

    Some with ornaments of rhyme.



    Nothing useless is, or low;

    Each thing in its place is best;

    And what seems but idle show

    Strengthens and supports the rest.



    For the structure that we raise,

    Time is with materials filled;

    Our to-days and yesterdays

    Are the blocks with which we build.



    Truly shape and fashion these;

    Leave no yawning gaps between;

    Think not, because no man sees,

    Such things will remain unseen.



    In the elder days of Art,

    Builders wrought with greatest care

    Each minute and unseen part;

    For the Gods see everywhere.



    Let us do our work as well,

    Both the unseen and the seen;

    Make the house, where Gods may dwell,

    Beautiful, entire, and clean.



    Else our lives are incomplete,

    Standing in these walls of Time,

    Broken stairways, where the feet

    Stumble as they seek to climb.



    Build to-day, then, strong and sure,

    With a firm and ample base;

    And ascending and secure

    Shall to-morrow find its place.



    Thus alone can we attain

    To those turrets, where the eye

    Sees the world as one vast plain,

    And one boundless reach of sky. 





 

 

 

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