I like to see the flowers grow, To see the pansies in a row; I think a well-kept garden`s fine, And wish that such a one were mine; But one can`t have a stock of flowers Unless he digs and digs for hours. My ground is always bleak and bare; The roses do not flourish there. And where I once sowed poppy seeds Is now a tangled mass of weeds.` I`m fond of flowers, but admit, For digging I don`t care a bit. I envy men whose yards are gay, But never work as hard as they; I also envy men who own More wealth than I have ever known. I`m like a lot of men who yearn For joys that they refuse to earn. You cannot have the joys of work And take the comfort of a shirk. I find the man I envy most Is he who`s longest at his post. I could have gold and roses, too, If I would work like those who do.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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