And the world has it made
the tasks he is to maid
Grappling each day's dirt
So they are less a girt
He braves through, a man.
If it be lord or menial
He is to be genial
Scorched under the sun's rays
lest he is mired by the crowd's ways
Poised he traverse, a man
But if to save the Lord died
For a new life, the woman labours
The mermaid for a pearl sheds a tear
Call it tragedy , a man's trial
To live he is to labour.
Such is his fate , otherwise circumstantial.
A day's unsettling sight he wrestles at night .
To him it is a burden till he is driven.
For he dictates if the freights weigh him down
Or he rises so as to own.