"Work" -- a poem by Henry van Dyke

Let me but do my work from day to day,
In field or forest, at the desk or loom;
In roaring marketplace 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 laboring hours,
And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall
At eventide, to play and love and rest;
Because I know for me my work is best.