THE SLUGGARD
'Tis the voice of a 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 saunt'ring, or trifling he stands.