I like to see the flowers grow, To see the pansies in a row; I think a well-kept garden's fine, And wish that such a one were mine; But one can't have a stock of flowers Unless he digs and digs for hours. My ground is always bleak and bare; The roses do not flourish there. And where I once sowed poppy seeds Is now a tangled mass of weeds. I'm fond of flowers, but admit, For digging I don't care a bit. I envy men whose yards are gay, But never work as hard as they; I also envy men who own More wealth than I have ever known. I'm like a lot of men who yearn For joys that they refuse to earn. You cannot have the joys of work And take the comfort of a shirk. I find the man I envy most Is he who's longest at his post. I could have gold and roses, too, If I would work like those who do. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TO THE EARL OF WARWICK ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON by THOMAS TICKELL IN THE BELFRY OF THE NIEUWE KERK by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WAY OF SACRIFICE by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER by SABINE BARING-GOULD OCTAVES by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |