A GOOD long walk each day is wise, but as old age approaches, we hate the thought of exercise, and ride in cars and coaches. And it is when we're waxing old that exercise is needed; if we'd dispel the fat and mold, our trilbys must be speeded. We ought to walk to work and back, and shun the elevator, and do the chores around the shack, and hoe the beet and 'tater. Instead of riding in a car, on seats of padded leather, 'twere better if we walked afar, in every kind of weather. We ought to sweat beneath the sun, absorb the heat it launches, and then perhaps we wouldn't run to double chins and paunches. We let all rules of health go hang, and when in bad condition, we do not walk a parasang, but send for a physician. Instead of climbing sunlit hills, inhaling wholesome breezes, we take a pint of purple pills and grunt of our diseases. We dodge all forms of exercise, which course is truly batty; and when we die the doctor cries, "Degeneration fatty!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MARRIAGE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN ON VISITING THE TOMB OF BURNS by JOHN KEATS THE GREAT SAINT BERNARD by SAMUEL ROGERS THE IMMORTALITY OF LOVE by ROBERT SOUTHEY |