At leisure is the Soul
That gets a Staggering Blow—
The Width of Life—before it spreads
Without a thing to do—
It begs you give it Work—
But just the placing Pins—
Or humblest Patchwork—Children do—
To Help its Vacant Hands—
At leisure is the Soul
That gets a Staggering Blow—
The Width of Life—before it spreads
Without a thing to do—
It begs you give it Work—
But just the placing Pins—
Or humblest Patchwork—Children do—
To Help its Vacant Hands—
