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Edgar Guest - Service
Work rating: Low

We know not how we came to be
Cast for the work that we are doing, 
Why one should sail the stormy sea, 
And one the farmer`s horse be shoeing. 
Why one should paint and one should write, 
Why one seem dull, another smart; 
We only know, both day and night, 
That each of us must play his part. 

He serves this world who digs the ditch
As much as he who writes the novels; 
Life leans no more upon the rich 
Than on the men who dwell in hovels. 
What greatness is we cannot say, 
God only knows who meets the test; 
On earth it`s but a part we play, 
And with it each must do his best.
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