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Stays on bed, basks in the sun
Sits allay on sea side
Amidst callers in fun
But never it espied by the side
Of an onerous workman ever on run
Oft it found on a ride
With a clumsy swain cares for none
And did you notice how it abides?
By headless laws of cold dejection
Halts a man, to recline on bed
In a state of passive, mere rejection
Then all living assignments slip his head
As the rule of idleness shape his subjection
The captivity, entirely of a futile thread.
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