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Poem by Edgar Albert Guest The Job The job will not make you, my boy; The job will not bring you to fame Or riches or honor or joy Or add any weight to your name. You may fail or succeed where you are, May honestly serve or may rob; From the start to the end Your success will depend On just what you make of your job. Don't look on the job as the thing That shall prove what you're able to do; The job does no more than to bring A chance for promotion to you. Men have shirked in high places and won Very justly the jeers of the mob; And you'll find it is true That it's all up to you To say what shall come from the job. The job is an incident small; The thing that's important is man. The job will not help you at all If you won't do the best that you can. It is you that determines your fate, You stand with your hand on the knob Of fame's doorway to-day, And life asks you to say Just what you will make of your job. Edgar Albert Guest Edgar Albert Guest's other poems:
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