<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477888" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Poet and his Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A SONG is but a little thing,<br>And yet what joy it is to sing!<br>In hours of toil it gives me zest,<br>And when at eve I long for rest;<br>When cows come home along the bars,<br>And in the fold I hear the bell,<br>As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars,<br>I sing my song, and all is well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are no ears to hear my lays,<br>No lips to lift a word of praise;<br>But still, with faith unfaltering,<br>I live and laugh and love and sing.<br>What matters yon unheeding throng?<br>They cannot feel my spirit's spell,<br>Since life is sweet and love is long,<br>I sing my song, and all is well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My days are never days of ease;<br>I till my ground and prune my trees.<br>When ripened gold is all the plain,<br>I put my sickle to the grain.<br>I labor hard, and toil and sweat,<br>While others dream within the dell;<br>But even while my brow is wet,<br>I sing my song, and all is well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometimes the sun, unkindly hot,<br>My garden makes a desert spot;<br>Sometimes a blight upon the tree<br>Takes all my fruit away from me;<br>And then with throes of bitter pain<br>Rebellious passions rise and swell;<br>But - life is more than fruit or grain,<br>And so I sing, and all is well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Paul+Laurence+Dunbar">Paul Laurence Dunbar</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477888" data-title="The Poet and his Song de Paul Laurence Dunbar" data-description="A SONG is but a little thing, And yet what joy it is to sing! In hours of toil it gives me zest, And when at eve I long for rest; When cows come home along the bars, And in the fold I hear the bell, As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars, I sing ..."></div> </div> </div>

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