An idle lingerer on the wayside's road,
  He gathers up his work and yawns away;
  A little longer, ere the tiresome load
  Shall be reduced to ashes or to clay.

  No matter if the world has marched along,
  And scorned his slowness as it quickly passed;
  No matter, if amid the busy throng,
  He greets some face, infantile at the last.

  His mission? Well, there is but one,
  And if it is a mission he knows it, nay,
  To be a happy idler, to lounge and sun,
  And dreaming, pass his long-drawn days away.

  So dreams he on, his happy life to pass
  Content, without ambitions painful sighs,
  Until the sands run down into the glass;
  He smiles—content—unmoved and dies.

  And yet, with all the pity that you feel
  For this poor mothling of that flame, the world;
  Are you the better for your desperate deal,
  When you, like him, into infinitude are hurled?

  • Source: Violets and Other Tales (1895)

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"POL has opened my mind to many kinds of poetry. Before competing, my experience with poetry was limited to Dr. Seuss. I now find myself making literary references, having analytical conversations with my peers and mentors about poetry, and recalling poems throughout my day."
Mikayla Bates
2016 UT POL Champion