Leisure.

The day is clear and warm,
Long grass turns yellow in the sun,
And furry brown bees swarm
Amid the clover till the day is done,
While here a man lies full length on the ground
Where dusty butterflies flit round and round.
And see, around his head
Blue smoke is curling from his pipe,
He has a pleasant bed
For where he lies the grass is warm and ripe,
And yet he wanders from the book he reads
And sighs to see the lazy life he leads.
I envied him at first,
His leisure and the long, long days
With time to quench a thirst
For books, and quietude, and lazy ways,
But now I feel ashamed each time I pass,—
Two crutches lie half hidden in the grass.

—Ruth M. Mumford.

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