A SONG OF REST.

I have sung the song of striving, Of the struggling, of arriving, Of making of one's self a horse and mounting him and driving! But now, let's cease; Let's look for peace. Let's forget the mark of money, Let's forget the love of fame. Life is ours and skies are sunny; What is worry but a name? Let's sit down and whiff and whittle, Let us loaf and laugh a little.

(Here the youngest spoiled the rime By running to me for a dime.)

I have sung the joy of doing, Of the pleasure of pursuing, And how life is like a woman and our role and rule is wooing, But now, O let Us cease to fret! Let us cease our vain desiring; Water's better than Cliquot; What is honor but perspiring? Wealth's another name for woe. Let us spread out in the clover, Just too lazy to turn over,—

(Here my wife brought in the news: All the children need new shoes.)

I have sung the song of action, Of the sweet of satisfaction Of pounding, pounding, pounding opposition to a fraction, But now, let's quit; Let's rest a bit. Money only makes us greedy, Life's success is but a taunt. He alone is never needy Who has learned to laugh at want. Let us loaf and laugh and wallow; Too much work to even swallow—

(Here's the mail and bills are curses; I must try to sell these verses.)