Cellphone Stories
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
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137. Nicki+minaj says
This poem is so boring
Report this comment136. Alejandro says
Good nd interesting
Report this comment135. Lady+Gogo says
Back
Report this comment134. Lady+Gogo says
B
Report this comment133. POISON+APPLE says
Iam more inlove an b4...:L)i love shakespare bt sumtyms thngs dnt make sence
Report this comment132. $*CUT3LI+INSAN3*$ says
Nah its nt ayoba it ddnt muv mi
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