Banjo Paterson

(17 February 1864 – 5 February 1941 / New South Wales)

A Song Of The Pen - Poem by Banjo Paterson

Not for the love of women toil we, we of the craft,
Not for the people's praise;
Only because our goddess made us her own and laughed,
Claiming us all our days,
Claiming our best endeavour -- body and heart and brain
Given with no reserve --
Niggard is she towards us, granting us little gain:
Still, we are proud to serve.

Not unto us is given choice of the tasks we try,
Gathering grain or chaff;
One of her favoured servants toils at an epic high,
One, that a child may laugh.

Yet if we serve her truly in our appointed place,
Freely she doth accord
Unto her faithful servants always this saving grace,
Work is its own reward!



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Read poems about / on: epic, women, work, child, people, song, heart, woman, children



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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