 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
IDLENESS.
Some people complain they have nothing to do,
And time passes slowly away;
They saunter about with no object in view,
And long for the end of the day.
And time passes slowly away;
They saunter about with no object in view,
And long for the end of the day.
In vain are the trifles and toys they desire,
For nothing they truly enjoy;
Of trifles, and toys, and amusements they tire,
For want of some useful employ.
For nothing they truly enjoy;
Of trifles, and toys, and amusements they tire,
For want of some useful employ.
When people have no need to work for their bread
And indolent always have been,
Perhaps it may never come into their head,
That wasting their time is a sin.
And indolent always have been,
Perhaps it may never come into their head,
That wasting their time is a sin.
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But time is a talent which none may abuse,
Whatever their station may be;
The more they command it, the less they should lose,
Nor ever make leisure a plea.
Whatever their station may be;
The more they command it, the less they should lose,
Nor ever make leisure a plea.
With active and useful employments combined
Man ever is happy and blest:
'Tis health to his body, and strength to his mind
Which languish from indolent rest.
Man ever is happy and blest:
'Tis health to his body, and strength to his mind
Which languish from indolent rest.
Although for transgression the ground was accursed;
Yet gratefully man must allow,
'Twas really a blessing which doomed him at first
To live by the sweat of his brow.
Yet gratefully man must allow,
'Twas really a blessing which doomed him at first
To live by the sweat of his brow.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |