On Work

Then a ploughman said, Speakto us of Work.

And he answered, saying:

You work that you may keep pace with theearth and the soul of the earth.

For to be idle is to become a strangerunto the seasons, and to step out oflife’s procession, that marches inmajesty and proud submission towards theinfinite.

When you work you are a flute throughwhose heart the whispering of the hoursturns to music.

Which of you would be a reed, dumb andsilent, when all else sings together inunison?

Always you have been told that work is acurse and labour a misfortune.

But I say to you that when you work youfulfil a part of earth’s furthest dream,assigned to you when that dream wasborn,

And in keeping yourself with labour youare in truth loving life,

And to love life through labour is to beintimate with life’s inmost secret.

But if you in your pain call birth anaffliction and the support of the flesha curse written upon your brow, then Ianswer that naught but the sweat ofyour brow shall wash away that which iswritten.

You have been told also that life isdarkness, and in your weariness you echowhat was said by the weary.

And I say that life is indeed darkness‘save when there is urge,

And all urge is blind save when there isknowledge,

And all knowledge is vain save whenthere is work,

And all work is empty save when there islove;

And when you work with love you bindyourself to yourself, and to oneanother, and to God.

And what is it to work with love?

It is to weave the cloth with threadsdrawn from your heart, even as if yourbeloved were to wear that cloth.

It is to build a house with affection,even as if your beloved were to dwell inthat house.

It is to sow seeds with tenderness andreap the harvest with joy, even as ifyour beloved were to eat the fruit.

It is to charge all things you fashionwith a breath of your own spirit,

And to know that all the blessed deadare standing about you and watching.

Often have I heard you say, as ifspeaking in sleep, “He who works inmarble, and finds the shape of his ownsoul in the stone, is nobler than he whoploughs the soil.

And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in thelikeness of man, is more than he whomakes the sandals for our feet.”

But I say, not in sleep but in theoverwakefulness of noontide, that thewind speaks not more sweetly to thegiant oaks than to the least of all theblades of grass;

And he alone is great who turns thevoice of the wind into a song madesweeter by his own loving.

Work is love made visible.

And if you cannot work with love butonly with distaste, it is better thatyou should leave your work and sit atthe gate of the temple and take alms ofthose who work with joy.

For if you bake bread with indifference,you bake a bitter bread that feeds buthalf man’s hunger.

And if you grudge the crushing of thegrapes, your grudge distils a poison inthe wine.

And if you sing though asangels, and love not the singing, youmuffle man’s ears to the voices of theday and the voices of the night.