Nothing Should Be Made By Man's Labour

Late February Days; And Now, At Last, Might You Have Thought That Winter's Woe Was Past; So Fair The Sky Was And So Soft The Air.

Slayer Of The Winter, Art Thou Here Again? O Welcome, Thou That Bring'st The Summer Nigh! The Bitter Wind Makes Not The Victory Vain. Nor Will We Mock Thee For Thy Faint Blue Sky.

It Has Become An Article Of The Creed Of Modern Morality That All Labour Is Good In Itself -- A Convenient Belief To Those Who Live On The Labour Of Others. But As To Those On Whom They Live, I Recommend Them Not To Take It On Trust, But To Look Into The Matter A Little Deeper.

One Man With An Idea In His Head Is In Danger Of Being Considered A Madman: Two Men With The Same Idea In Common May Be Foolish, But Can Hardly Be Mad; Ten Men Sharing An Idea Begin To Act, A Hundred Draw Attention As Fanatics, A Thousand And Society Begins To Tremble, A Hundred Thousand And There Is War Abroad, And The Cause Has Victories Tangible And Real; And Why Only A Hundred Thousand? Why Not A Hundred Million And Peace Upon The Earth? You And I Who Agree Together, It Is We Who Have To Answer That Question.

You May Hang Your Walls With Tapestry Insread Of Whitewash Or Paper; Or You May Cover Them With Mosaic; Or Have Them Frescoed By A Great Painter: All This Is Not Luxury, If It Be Done For Beauty's Sake, And Not For Show: It Does Not Break Our Golden Rule: Have Nothing In Your Houses Which You Do Not Know To Be Useful Or Believe To Be Beautiful.