Idleness Poem by Silas Weir Mitchell
Idleness
THERE is no dearer lover of lost hours
Than I.
I can be idler than the idlest flowers;
More idly lie
Than noonday lilies languidly afloat,
And water pillowed in a windless moat.
And I can be
Stiller than some gray stone
That hath no motion known.
It seems to me
That my still idleness doth make my own
All magic gifts of joy's simplicity.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
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5/10/2024 7:47:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
