I might have been a worker, but I'm nothing but a drone. <br />I tell my idle stories in a philosophic tone. <br />In a fuzzy, spiny mantle of remoteness softly furled <br />I lie and watch with half-shut eyes the stupefying world. <br /> <br />And they bustle and they rustle with their self-consuming din. <br />And eager feet go hurrying out and tired feet come in. <br />Like Bottom, when they hear a sound they all must rush to see. <br />They're always running after life. I let it come to me.<br /><br />Gamaliel Bradford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-drone-4/
