For Men Must Work Poem by Christian Muller

The writer waits for muse to make him write.
But is it right (as wright) to write as such?
Do farmers wait on banks in morning light
To find the will to reap their crops? How much
The world would starve if writers took the plough.
Do sleepless soldiers crouch in dying nights
To smell the blooms that grow beneath some bough?
In hopes that blooms will stir their will to fight.
Oh praise to him who sits as craftsmen do.
And strains above his work from rise to set.
Who does not ponder if his trade is true.
For men must work as all men work, in wet
Or shine, with cause or none. Pick up your pen.
And follow harder work of better men!