In Cornwall and Across the Sea With Poems Written in Devonshire. By Douglas B. W. Sladen |
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A BALLAD OF PLEASURE. |
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 | In Cornwall and Across the Sea |  |
203
A BALLAD OF PLEASURE.
We workers, who toil in the grimy town,
Have heard of the drones who will spend the day
In galloping over the breezy down,
Or sailing about on the bright blue bay,
Or striving the strenuous hours away
In matches at cricket and games at fives,
Or hunting or shooting or——all in play,
While we are in slavery all our lives.
Have heard of the drones who will spend the day
In galloping over the breezy down,
Or sailing about on the bright blue bay,
Or striving the strenuous hours away
In matches at cricket and games at fives,
Or hunting or shooting or——all in play,
While we are in slavery all our lives.
We workers, who toil in the grimy town,
Have heard of the drones who will spend the day
In changes and changes of suit and gown,
And vying each other in vain display,
And lounging and lunching and idle say,—
Old bachelors wooing to wild young wives,
Young bachelors losing their lands at play—
While we are in slavery all our lives.
Have heard of the drones who will spend the day
In changes and changes of suit and gown,
And vying each other in vain display,
And lounging and lunching and idle say,—
Old bachelors wooing to wild young wives,
Young bachelors losing their lands at play—
While we are in slavery all our lives.
204
We workers, who toil in the grimy town,
Have heard of the drones who will spend the day
In dreaming away by the waters brown
When summer is singing his roundelay,
And over the fire, when in widow-grey
The winter once more from the north arrives,
Just prating of Letters and Art in play,
While we are in slavery all our lives.
Have heard of the drones who will spend the day
In dreaming away by the waters brown
When summer is singing his roundelay,
And over the fire, when in widow-grey
The winter once more from the north arrives,
Just prating of Letters and Art in play,
While we are in slavery all our lives.
Envoy.
We wonder what profit is theirs and say,“These indolent drones with their wasteful wives,
They shall not endure in their endless play,
While we are in slavery all our lives.”
| In Cornwall and Across the Sea | |