A Hermitage: From St. Gregory Nazianzen

Some one whisper’d yesterday, Of the rich and fashionable, Gregory in his own small way Easy was and comfortable.

Had he not of wealth his fill Whom a garden gay did bless, And a gently trickling rill, And the sweets of idleness?

I made answer:—“Is it ease Fasts to keep and tears to shed, Vigil hours and wounded knees, Call you these a pleasant bed?”

Thus a veritable monk Does to death his fleshly frame; Be there who in sloth are sunk, They have forfeited the name.