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The Sluggard

 A jar of cider and my pipe, 
In summer, under shady tree; 
A book by one that made his mind 
Live by its sweet 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 believes the earth has not Another maid so rich and fair; And proudly smiles on rich and poor, The queen of all fair women then: So I, dressen in my idle dreams, Will think myself the king of men.

by William Henry Davies
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