The Builders

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

All are architects of ,
Working in these wall of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise,
Time is with materials filled;
Our todays and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these;
Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
Such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of Art,
wrought with care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the gods see everywhere.

Let us do our as well,
Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house where gods may dwell
Beautiful, entire, and clean.

Else our lives are incomplete,
Standing in these walls of Time,
Broken stairways, where the feet
Stumble, as they seek to climb.

Build , then, and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and
Shall find its place.

Thus alone can we attain
To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the as one vast plain,
And one boundless reach of sky.

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