Читать книгу The Lazy Minstrel - Ashby-Sterry Joseph - Страница 7

ALL through the lazy afternoon,

Beneath the sycamore,

I listen to the distant Lune,

Or slumber to its roar;

'Tis sweet to muse, to sleep or sing,

When talk is superfluity;

'Tis sweet beneath the trees to swing,

And practise hammockuity.

Forgotten here, I would forget

The destiny fate weaves,

The while I smoke a cigarette

To music of the leaves;

I wish my present lazy life

A lengthy continuity;

Away from trouble, care, and strife,

In happy hammockuity!

While others work, while others play,

Or love, or laugh, or weep;

I watch the smoke-rings curl away,

And almost fall asleep!

I'd give up thought of future fame —

Despite such incongruity —

I'd forfeit riches, power, name,

For blissful hammockuity!

I hate the booming busy bee

Who dares to wake me up —

I wonder if it's time for tea,

Or grateful cyder-cup?

I would I could, beneath the trees,

Repose in perpetuity,

And swing, and sing, and take mine ease

In lasting hammockuity!