Poem: “The Idler”

“The Idler”

My personal philosophy ( of sorts ) of life:

                               THE IDLER
Idle hands may be the devil’s workshop, 
But a pickpocket’s keep busy stealing.
A man has to work if he is to eat,
But a man shall not live on bread alone.
O give me the carefree grasshopper
Over the industrious, little ant
For neither knew if they’d still be alive
Or buried stone-cold dead by autumn’s end.
Who is the fool: the one who spends his days
Roaming wide the sweet meadows and woods,
With a book of verse in his back pocket
And a windfallen apple in his hand,
Or the one who toils day after day
To gain the whole world for the price of his soul?

A customized print can be ordered at Fineartamerica.com.

( “The Idler” © Poeticmeditation, 2012. All rights reserved. )


About poeticmeditations

A 19th-century romantic poet living in the 21st-century. The Romantic poets, nib pens, candlelight, waistcoats, and pocket watches are a few of my favorite things.
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