When a man's busy, why leisure Strikes him as wonderful pleasure: 'Faith, and at leisure once is he? Straightway he wants to be busy.
Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.
He who did well in war just earns the right, To begin doing well in peace.
Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.
I know what I want and what I might gain, and yet, how profitless to know.