Poems (1872) :: :: University of Virginia Library

The labouring man, that tilles the fertile soyle,
And reapes the haruest fruict, hath not in deede
The gaine but paine, and if for al hys toyle
He gets the strawe, the lord will have the seede.

The manchet fyne falles not vnto his share,
On coursest cheat, his hungrye stomacke feedes,
The landlord doth possesse the fynest fare;
He pulles the flowers, he plukes but weedes.

The mason poore that buildes the lordly halles
Dwelles not in them; they are for hye degree;

His cottage is compact in paper walles
And not with bricke or stone as others be.

The idle drone, that labours not at all,
Suckes vp the sweete of honny from the bee;
Who worketh most, to their share least doth fall;
With due desert, reward will neuer be.

The swiftest hare, unto the mastiue slowe
Oft-times doth fall, to him as for a praye;
The greyhounde thereby, doth misse his game, we knowe,
For which he made such speedy hast away.

So he that takes the payne to penne the booke,
Reapes not the giftes of goodly golden Muse,
But those gayne, that who on the worke shal looke
And from the soure the sweete by skill doth chuse.
For he that beates the bushe the byrd not gets,
But who sittes still and holdeth fast the nets.