Poem by Isaac Watts

The Sluggard

'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain,
"You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head.

"A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;"
Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number,
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.

I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier,
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher;
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs.

I made him a visit, still hoping to find
That he took better care for improving his mind:
He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking;
But scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.

Said I then to my heart, "Here's a lesson for me,"
This man's but a picture of what I might be:
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,
Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.

1. Psalm 34. Part 1 (Lord, I will bless thee all my days)
2. Psalm 121 (To heav'n I lift my waiting eyes)
3. Psalm 16. Part 1 (Preserve me, Lord, in time of need)
4. Psalm 11 (My refuge is the God of love)
5. Psalm 42. Part 1 (With earnest longings of the mind)

Print

7049 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version