Old poems like old friends. Something I just remembered and looked up.

excerpt from Robert Frost, 'Two Tramps in Mud Time'

But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future's sakes.