All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair-- <br />The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing-- <br />And WINTER slumbering in the open air, <br />Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring ! <br />And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, <br />Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. <br /> <br /> Yet well I ken the banks where Amaranths blow, <br />Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. <br />Bloom, O ye Amaranths ! bloom for whom ye may, <br />For me ye bloom not ! Glide, rich streams, away ! <br />With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll : <br />And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul ? <br />WORK WITHOUT HOPE draws nectar in a sieve, <br />And HOPE without an object cannot live.<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/work-without-hope/
