Yes, ‘tis Friday. We have put together all of the elements of another week in the construction of this edifice that is to be defined as “Our Life.” An appropriate time to sit back and allow the words of my favorite poet to guide our reflections on what we have accomplished through our application of talents in the space of the past few days. I give you, in Love, “The Builders.”
The Builders
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
All are architects of fate,
Working in these walls of time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.
Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.
For the structure that we raise,
Time is with materials filled;
Our todays and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.
Truly shape and fashion these;
Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
Such things will remain unseen.
In the elder days of Art,
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the gods see everywhere.
Let us do our work as well,
Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house where gods may dwell
Beautiful, entire, and clean.
Else our lives are incomplete,
Standing in these walls of Time,
Broken stairways, where the feet
Stumble, as they seek to climb.
Build today, then, strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure
Shall tomorrow find its place.
Thus alone can we attain
To those turret, where the eye
Sees the world as one vast plain,
And one boundless reach of sky.
IMAGE: Through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com
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