The Builder 
I watched them tearing a building down,
A gang of men in a busy town.
With a ho-heave-ho and a lusty yell,
They swung the beams and the side walls fell
I asked the foreman, Are these men skilled,
The kind you'd hire were you to build?
He laughed and said, Why, no indeed!
Just common laborers are all I need.
They can easily wreck in a day or two
What builders have taken years to do.
And I thought to myself as I went my way:
What part in the game of life do I play?
Am I a builder who works with care,
measuring life by the rule and square?
Am I shaping my deeds to a well-made plan,
patiently doing the best I can?
Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,
Content with the labor of tearing down?