You can bear away the wounded,
You can cover up the dead.
Do not, then, stand idly waiting
For some greater work to do,
Fortune is a lazy goddess,
She will never come to you.
Go and toil in any vineyard,
Do not fear to do or dare,
If you want a field of labour,
You can find it anywhere.
* * * * *
SATISFACTION.
They sent him round the circle fair,
To bow before the prettiest there;
I'm bound to say the choice he made
A creditable taste displayed;
Although I can't see what it meant,
The little maid looked ill-content.
His task was then anew begun,
To kneel before the wittiest one.
Once more the little maid sought he
And bent him down upon his knee;
She turned her eyes upon the floor;
I think she thought the game a bore
He circled then his sweet behest
To kiss the one he loved the best;
For all she frowned, for all she chid,
He kissed that little maid--he did.
And then--though why I can't decide--
The little maid looked satisfied.
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