I
I'm sad, I'm sad, for the joy I had
Is wrecked like a craft in mid-sea;
It's strange, but suddenly youth's fond hope
Seems lost forever to me.
Oho! how slow the shavings go;
But let me do what I can,--
For man, for man was meant for labor,
And labor was meant for man.
II
I'm glad, I'm glad, for the grief I had
Has blown like a cloud away;
My heart, my plane, let us laugh together,
For night has bloomed into day.
Hi, hi! how spry the shavings fly!
I'll work as well as I can,--
For man, for man was meant for labor,
And labor was meant for man.
III
O, weary the hour that ushers toil,
And heavy the moan of the plane,
When labor is not the labor of love,
And can be never again.
Oho! how slow the shavings go;
But let us do what we can,--
For man, for man was meant for labor,
And labor was meant for man.
IV
But light is endeavor that hath a heart;
O, sweet those sunshiny days,
When every bird-call carols of hope,
And joy speaks a thousand ways.
Hi, hi! how spry the shavings fly!
I'll work as well as I can,--
For man, for man was meant for labor,
And labor was meant for man.
