Some struggle hard for worldly fame, <br />Some toil to have an honored name, <br />And some have great ambition. <br />A few there are who strive that they <br />May save the heathen far away, <br />Which is a noble mission. <br />Still others work for riches vast <br />To have enough when youth is past <br />For charitable giving; <br />Yet millions of us work by day, <br />And this our object is alway: <br />To make a decent living. <br /> <br />This is the secret of our toil, <br />For this we burn the midnight oil, <br />For this the rhymester sings. <br />'T is want that spurs us on, not fame, <br />'T is hunger, not a world-wide name — <br />The need of worldly things. <br />Though fame may come in after years, <br />And in his ears may ring the cheers <br />And plaudits of the crowd, <br />'T is not for them man toils today, <br />But that his wife and babies may <br />Be decently endowed. <br /> <br />That he may have enough to wear, <br />Enough to eat, enough to spare <br />To give to those in need, <br />Is, after all, man's purpose true, <br />'T is all the good man hopes to do; <br />For more than that is greed. <br />The greatest things are done by those <br />Who face privation and its woes <br />And seek to climb above them; <br />The men who rise to fame, you'll find, <br />Take thought of first and keep in mind <br />The needs of those who love them.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-reason-for-work/
