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Something Left Undone a poem
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Something Left Undone

Labor with what zeal we will, 
Something still remains undone, 
Something uncompleted still 
Waits the rising of the sun. 

By the bedside, on the stair, 
At the threshhold, near the gates, 
With its menace or its prayer, 
Like a medicant it waits; 

Waits, and will not go away; 
Waits, and will not be gainsaid; 
By the cares of yesterday 
Each to-day is heavier made; 

Till at length the burden seems 
Greater than our strength can bear, 
Heavy as the weight of dreams 
Pressing on us everywhere. 

And we stand from day to day, 
Like the dwarfs of times gone by, 
Who, as Northern legends say, 
On their shoulders held the sky. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

 
Something Left Undone
poem
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

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