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Success is the fruit of toil

Planted in a fertile soil

Pleasure we mustn't spoil

So as not to recoil.

But for being active

And sometimes pensive.

Without being creative

All the time inventive.

Nothing could be done

Or ideas spun.

Machines wouldn't run

And we would have none.

We would miss the fun

Nowhere could we have gone.

Reap the fruits of your labour

And all the time endeavour,

That's in your favour.