Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IDLENESS, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT

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IDLENESS, by            
First Line: O tedious idleness / how irksome is
Last Line: As when down to the fishes depth he slides.
Subject(s): Idleness; Laziness; Sloth; Indolence

How irksome is
Thy foolish Nothing! When all day
I strugled through the craggiedst Way
Of knottiest Learning to gett up
To the fair top
Of some deer Knowledge, I did never fynd
My Body half so tir'd, so damp'd my Mynd.


So tir'd, & damp'd as now:
For monstrous Thou
Thwart'st ev'n my Essence, & dost choke
My sprightfull Flame in drowsy smoke.
Surely a Soule which dwells among
A quick & strong
Consort of Organs, ne'r was seated there
To lend to Sloths dull Pipe her active Ear.


Were I to Curse my Foe,
I'd damne Him to
No Hell but Thee; in whose blinde grott
He, though in health, might lie & rott,
And prove Deaths wretched Sacrifice
Before he dies;
Whilst He himself doth to Himself become
Both ye dead Carcase, & the living Tombe.


May some Work ever keep
Mine Eyes from Sleep
Whilst they are wakeing! though it be
But some poor Song to throw at Thee
Mischeivous Sloth. Alas, I grutch
That I so much
Of this my little Time expend, whilst I
All night seald up in lazie Slumbres lie.


The longest Summer Day
Strait posts away.
An honestly imployed Mynd
Doth shriveld-up December fynd
In wide-spred June; & thinks black Night
Crowds out fair Light
As soon when Sol through lofty Cancer rides,
As when down to the Fishes depth he slides.

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