Labor is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul, Nor beauty born out of its own despair, Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil. O chestnut tree, great-rooted blossomer, Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole? O body swayed to music, O brightening glance How can we know the dancer from the dance?
Englishmen are babes in philosophy and so prefer faction-fighting to the labour of its unfamiliar thought.
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake There's many a one shall find out all heartache On finding that her voice is sweet and low Replied, 'To be born a woman is to know- Although they do not talk of it at school - That we must labor to be beautiful.
To be born woman is to know - although they do not speak of it at school - women must labor to be beautiful.
The labor of the alchemists, who were called artist in their day, is a befitting comparison for a deliberate change of style.
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