THOU, who when joys appear Bidst them begone, and mere Pleasure, delight, or cheer, Scorning regardest; Hard, when the morn is gray; Hard, when they've cleared away Lunch; and at close of day Possibly hardest: I have a hatred old For thee, though manifold Stories, I know, are told, All to thy credit; How they who love to slave, Avid of work, and brave, Fill a not early grave, (Gosh! how I dread it!) How they who love to shirk Duties that chafe and irk, Loathing all kinds of work, Reft of ambitions, Urgeless and uninspired, Sodden and dull and tired, Ultimately get fired— Lose their positions. Often a friend when he Greets me will say to me: "Oh, how you gleefully Jingle and jest it!" Friend, if you care for my Shameless expression, why, Let me be honest: I Simply detest it. Work, I have heard it claimed, Makes one beloved and famed; Haply I shall be blamed Now if I slack it. Blame me, then ... I don't care One little tinker's swear. Me for the open air— Give me my racquet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF DUST: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN SCHOOLS OF LITTLE FISH by MARVIN BELL HOW TO BE A POET (TO REMIND MYSELF) by WENDELL BERRY CONTRA MORTEM: THE LEAVES by HAYDEN CARRUTH SONG: SO OFTEN, SO LONG I HAVE THOUGHT by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE BIRDS OF VIETNAM by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE BIRTH OF VENUS by HAYDEN CARRUTH |