The Sluggard

A jar of cider and my pipe,

In summer, under shady tree;

A book of one that made his min

Live by its simplicity:

Then must I laugh at kings who sit

In richest chambers, signing scrolls;

And princes cheered in public ways,

And stared at by a thousand fools.

Let me be free to wear my dreams,

Like weeds in some mad maiden’s hair,

When she doth think the earth has not

Another maid so rich and fair;

And proudly smiles on rich and poor,

The queen of all the fair women then:

So I, dressed in my idle dreams,

Will think myself the king of men.