Some men enjoy the constant strife <br />Of days with work and worry rife, <br />But that is not my dream of life: <br />I think such men are crazy. <br />For me, a life with worries few, <br />A job of nothing much to do, <br />Just pelf enough to see me through: <br />I fear that I am lazy. <br /> <br />On winter mornings cold and drear, <br />When six o'clock alarms I hear, <br />'Tis then I love to shift my ear, <br />And hug my downy pillows. <br />When in the shade it's ninety-three, <br />No job in town looks good to me, <br />I'd rather loaf down by the sea, <br />And watch the foaming billows. <br /> <br />Some people think the world's a school, <br />Where labor is the only rule; <br />But I'll not make myself a mule, <br />And don't you ever doubt it. <br />I know that work may have its use, <br />But still I feel that's no excuse <br />For turning it into abuse; <br />What do you think about it? <br /> <br />Let others fume and sweat and boil, <br />And scratch and dig for golden spoil, <br />And live the life of work and toil, <br />Their lives to labor giving. <br />But what is gold when life is sped, <br />And life is short, as has been said, <br />And we are such a long time dead, <br />I'll spend my life in living.<br /><br />James Weldon Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lazy-7/
