Unpaid Work

He hit the world's taste, and for what he gave
It more than paid him—fame and fortune squander'd.
He overdid its taste—became its slave;
It bought him, and he pander'd.

'Tis well to be repaid for what you give:
To work unpaid, for love of work, is better—
Bestowing all for nothing while you live—
And leave the world your debtor.
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