Song Of The Pen

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Title:     Song Of The Pen
Author: Banjo Paterson [More Titles by 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!_

[The end]
Banjo Paterson's poem: Song Of The Pen

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