Idleness.

The street was brisk, an animated scene, And every man was on some business bent, Absorbed in some employment or intent, Pre-occupied, intelligent and keen. True, some were dwarf'd and some were pale and lean. But to the sorriest visage Labor lent A light, transfiguring with her sacrament The abject countenance and slavish mien. But one—he shambled aimlessly along Asham'd, and shrunk from the abstracted ken Of passers-by with conscience-struck recoil, A pariah, a leper in the throng, An alien from the commonwealth of men, A stranger to the covenant of toil.