The clothes that hung 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 he 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.”