One day, in ages dark and dim, <br />A toiler, weary, worn and faint, <br />Who found his task too much for him, <br />Gave voice unto a sad complaint. <br />And seeking emphasis to give <br />Unto his trials (day ill-starred!) <br />Coupled to 'work' this adjective, <br />This little word of terror: Hard. <br /> <br />And from that day to this has work <br />Its frightening description worrn; <br />'Tis spoken daily by the shirk, <br />The first cloud on the sky at morn. <br />To-day when there are tasks to do, <br />Save that we keep ourselves on guard <br />With fearful doublings them we view, <br />And think and speak of them as hard. <br /> <br />That little but ill-chosen word <br />Has wrought great havoc with men's souls, <br />Has chilled the hearts ambition stirred <br />And held the pass to splendid goals. <br />Great dreams have faded and been lost, <br />Fine youth by it been sadly marred <br />As plants beneath a withering frost, <br />Because men thought and whispered: 'Hard.' <br /> <br />Let's think of work in terms of hope <br />And speak of it with words of praise, <br />And tell the joy it is to grope <br />Along the new, untrodden ways! <br />Let's break this habit of despair <br />And cheerfully our task regard; <br />The road to happiness lies there: <br />Why think or speak of it as hard?<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hard-work-11/
