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　　WORK

　　(1819)

　　Who first invented work, and bound the free

　　And holyday-rejoicing spirit down

　　To the ever-haunting importunity

　　Of business in the green fields, and the town—

　　To plough, loom, anvil, spade—and oh! most sad

　　To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood?

　　Who but the Being unblest, alien from good,

　　Sabbathless Satan! he who his unglad

　　Task ever plies 'mid rotatory burnings,

　　That round and round incalculably reel—

　　For wrath divine hath made him like a wheel—

　　In that red realm from which are no returnings;

　　Where toiling, and turmoiling, ever and aye

　　He, and his thoughts, keep pensive working-day. The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4