Author John Oxenham Lord, when Thou seest that my work is done,Let me not linger on,With failing powers,Adown the weary hours,--A workless worker in a world of work.But, with a word,Just bid me home,And I will comeRight gladly,--Yea, right gladlyWill I come. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 5 (1 vote) Rate Log in or register to post comments