The Builders
Behold, I built a fowlhouse in my yard!
Two months ago the great work was begun,
And every eventide I laboured hard,
What time my daily office grind was done.
'Tis to my industry a monument.
The fowls, my wife, and I are well content.
Indeed, I built a fowlhouse. God forbid—
Although I made it, floor and roof and wall—
That I should boast about this thing I did.
I mention it most modestly withal.
Just these two hands, this brain were all I had.
I built it on my own, and I am glad.
And, as I toiled at eve, my wife would come,
The candle, nails and divers tools to hold;
And when I swore because I hit my thumb
She did not hang the contract up to scold,
Nor move a vote of censure, and maintain
The thing should be pulled down and built again.
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