They talk of time, and of times galling yoke,

That like a millstone on mans mind doth press,

Which only works and business can redress:

Of divine Leisure such foul lies are spoke,

Wounding her fair gifts with calumnious stroke.

But might I, fed with silent meditation,

Assoiled live from that fiend Occupation--

Improbus Labor, which my spirits hath broke--

Id drink of times rich cup, and never surfeit:

Fling in more days than went to make the gem

That crownd white top of Methusalem:

Yea on my weak neck take, and never forfeit,

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新】or【关闭小说模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

尝试更换【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开多多收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通、Wifi。

收藏网址：www.ziyungong.cc

(＞人＜；)