THE WHET.

The day that I loaf when I ought to employ it Has, somehow, the flavor which makes me enjoy it. So the man with no work He may joyously shirk I envy no more than I do the Grand Turk. He most is in need of a holiday, who, In this workaday world, has no duty to do.

The dollar you waste when you ought not to spend it Buys something no plutocrat's millions could lend it, For if once you exhaust All your care of the cost, Full half of the pleasure of purchase is lost, So I trust you are one who is wise in discerning The value of spending is most in the earning.

My little success which was nearest complete Was that which I tore from the teeth of defeat, And the man who can hit With his wisdom and wit Without any effort, I envy no whit. The genius whose laurels grow always the greenest Finds pleasure in plenty, but misses the keenest.