Thomas Sturge Moore
Thomas Sturge Moore Poems
|1.||A Sicilian Idyll||4/22/2010|
|6.||The Rower's Chant||4/22/2010|
|7.||The Dying Swan||4/22/2010|
O idleness, too fond of me,
Begone, I know and hate thee!
Nothing canst thou of pleasure see
In one that so doth rate thee;
For empty are both mind and heart
While thou with me dost linger;
More profit would to thee impart
A babe that sucks its finger.
I know thou hast a better way
To spend these hours thou squand'rest;
Some lad toils in the trough to-day
Who groans because thou wand'rest;
A bleating sheep he dowses now
Or wrestles with ram's terror;
Ah, 'mid the washing's hubbub, how
His sighs reproach thine error!
He knows and ...