All are architects of Fate, <br />Working in these walls of Time; <br />Some with massive deeds and great, <br />Some with ornaments of rhyme. <br /> <br />Nothing useless is, or low; <br />Each thing in its place is best; <br />And what seems but idle show <br />Strengthens and supports the rest. <br /> <br />For the structure that we raise, <br />Time is with materials filled; <br />Our to-days and yesterdays <br />Are the blocks with which we build. <br /> <br />Truly shape and fashion these; <br />Leave no yawning gaps between; <br />Think not, because no man sees, <br />Such things will remain unseen. <br /> <br />In the elder days of Art, <br />Builders wrought with greatest care <br />Each minute and unseen part; <br />For the Gods see everywhere. <br /> <br />Let us do our work as well, <br />Both the unseen and the seen; <br />Make the house, where Gods may dwell, <br />Beautiful, entire, and clean. <br /> <br />Else our lives are incomplete, <br />Standing in these walls of Time, <br />Broken stairways, where the feet <br />Stumble as they seek to climb. <br /> <br />Build to-day, then, strong and sure, <br />With a firm and ample base; <br />And ascending and secure <br />Shall to-morrow find its place. <br /> <br />Thus alone can we attain <br />To those turrets, where the eye <br />Sees the world as one vast plain, <br />And one boundless reach of sky.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/by-the-fireside-the-builders/
