Let me but do my work from day to day,In field or forest, at the desk or loom,In roaring market-place or tranquil room;Let me but find it in my heart to say,When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;"Of all who live, I am the one by whom"This work can best be done in the right way."Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fallAt eventide, to play and love and rest,Because I know for me my work is best.
Henry van Dyke · Music, and Other Poems
Courage & motivation
“Let me but do my work from day to day,”
- Author
- Henry van Dyke
- Work
- Music, and Other Poems
- Year
- 1904
- Chapter / part
- Work
- Length
- 122 words
- Source
- Project Gutenberg eBook #3525
Public domain. This passage is in the public domain. Henry van Dyke died in 1933, more than 70 years ago, and the work was first published in 1904. You can copy, print, read aloud or sell it without asking permission; a credit is kind but not required. The text is copied word for word from the Project Gutenberg edition linked here.
Related passages
OUT of the night that covers me,Black as the Pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds, and shall find, me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate:I am the captain of my soul.
I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.For he today that sheds his blood with meShall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,This day shall gentle his condition;And gentlemen in England now abedShall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaksThat fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em.
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