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The Toil of Man

Recently found, its a Poem, done by an older boy, whose name I can't
recollect, at Bellahouston Academy, circa 1960 - 1962, where I attended,
prior to emigrating in 1963 to Canada. Perhaps you can use it ?

   " The Toil of Man"

The stubborn & the ornate
compose the work of man,
Test what his hands create
He who underlies the plan,
All time, all space I relate
to toil, & the fingers span.

Why should I make & adorn
why with profusion shade ?
what I resist is born
what I protect will fade,
I think of rose & thorn
then thrust with foot on spade.

The pattern of time runs out
& then I correct its pace,
I give weight of thought
to all that my hand would trace,
But what, at last, have I wrought ?
Nothing, except by grace.

Thanks to Bob Downie for sending this in



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