'Work while it is yet day, for the night cometh on when no man can work.'
Work while the day is long,
While the right arm is strong,
While the life-blood is young,
Night cometh on.
Work while the sun is high,
In the bright smiling sky;
Swiftly life's minutes fly:
Night cometh on.
Strive with thy heart and soul;
Press to the distant goal;
Waste not the hours that roll:
Night cometh on.
Life is a season lent;
Moments are treasures sent;
See that they're wisely spent:
Night cometh on.
What thy hand finds to do,
That, with thy might, pursue,
With a brave heart and true:
Night cometh on.
What though we toil in pain,
'Twill not be all in vain;
Haste then the good to gain:
Night cometh on.
What though grief rack the breast?
Doth there not come a rest?
Let us then do our best:
Night cometh on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem