Indolence. [1]

I turn aside; and, in the pause, might start As Mem'ry's elbow leans upon Time's Chart, Which shows, alas! how soon all men must glide Over meridians on life's ocean tide— Meridians showing how both youth and sage Are sailing northward to the zone of age: On to an atmosphere of gloom I wist, Where mariners are lost in melancholy mist. But gayer thoughts, like spring-tide swallows, dart Through youth's brave mind and animate its heart. But Indolence is seen a pallid Ruth— A timid gleaner in the fields of youth— A wretched gath'rer of the scattered grain Left by the reapers who have swept the plain; But with no Boaz standing by the while, To watch its figure with approving smile.