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With what thou gavest me, O Master,
I have wrought.
Such chances, such abilities,
To see the end was not for my poor eyes,
Thine was the impulse, thine the forming thought.

Ah, I have wrought,
And these sad hands have right to tell their story,
It was no hard up striving after glory,
Catching and losing, gaining and failing,
Raging me back at the world's raucous railing.
Simply and humbly from stone and from wood,
Wrought I the things that to thee might seem good.

If they are little, ah God! but the cost,
Who but thou knowest the all that is lost!
If they are few, is the workmanship true?
Try them and weigh me, whate'er be my due!

Where this page came from

This page was imported from Wikisource. “The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar” by Paul Laurence Dunbar is in the public domain; the text is as transcribed and proofread by Wikisource's volunteers.

Nobody has written it yet — it is the source material at a new address, which is why search engines are asked to skip it and why no one earns from it. It is up for grabs: take it on, and it is yours to rewrite and to earn from.

Nestas publicaçõesThe Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar

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Licença: CC0 1.0 (domínio público) · Adaptado de en.wikisource.org

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