WORK

WORK
How true it is when I am sad
A little work can make me glad.
When frowning care comes to my door
I work a while and fret no more.
I leave my couch harassed with pain,
I work, and soon I’m well again.
When sorrow comes and vain regret,
I go to work and soon forget.
Work soothes the soul when joys depart,
And often mends a broken heart.
The idle mind soon fills with murk,
So that’s why God invented work.
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