Written in the Infirmary of Westminster Prison,
during severe illness, November, 1849.
We all have our allotted task;
Their burden all must bear-
For God gave us our faculties
To use, and not to spare.
Full oft I would, how gladly! rest,
When sinks the frame o’erwrought;
But ever the feeble barque must drive
Before the mighty thought.
I know I might have lingered still
A span, from year to year;
But on a world that used me ill
I close a brief career.
This form is but the armour frail
I wore in many a strife,
Thro’ that long war with misery,
Men christen-“human life.”
I spar’d it not in storm or toil;
And when I pass afar,
Death will have but a sorry spoil
To grace a conqueror’s car.
(Ernest Jones)
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