And they were stronger hands than mine <br />That digged the Ruby from the earth-- <br />More cunning brains that made it worth <br />The large desire of a king, <br />And stouter hearts that through the brine <br />Went down the perfect Pearl to bring. <br /> <br />Lo, I have wrought in common clay <br />Rude figures of a rough-hewn race, <br />Since pearls strew not the market-place <br />In this my town of banishment, <br />Where with the shifting dust I play, <br />And eat the bread of discontent. <br /> <br />Yet is there life in that I make. <br />0 thou who knowest, turn and see-- <br />As thou hast power over me <br />So have I power over these, <br />Because I wrought them for thy sake, <br />And breathed in them mine agonies. <br /> <br />Small mirth was in the making--now <br />I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay, <br />And, wearied, at thy feet I lay <br />My wares, ere I go forth to sell. <br />The long bazar will praise, but thou-- <br />Heart of my heart--have I done well?<br /><br />Rudyard Kipling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dedication-3/
