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Doing Nothing
The hardest job I’ve ever tried,
In Summer, Winter, Spring, or Fall,
Whether alone or by the side
Of helpers - matters not at all -
Is doing nothing.
Just think of having not a thing
On earth to busy hand or brain.
I know not of a sharper sting,
Nor one ’twould give me keener pain
Than doing nothing.
Just eat and sleep and mope around;
No good deed done, no kind word said,
No darkened corner sought or found,
Where sunshine might with ease be shed -
Just doing nothing.
Kind Fate, spare me from such a lot.
I’d sooner, far, be numbered with
The silent sleepers in some spot
Where naught is known of kin or kith,
Than doing nothing.
By William Henry Dawson
William Henry Dawson, also known as W. H. Dawson, was born in 1853. He became a poet. He is the author of the book, “Sunshine of Hope, and Other Poems” (1910). William Henry Dawson passed on at about 75 years of age in 1928.
The hardest job I’ve ever tried,
In Summer, Winter, Spring, or Fall,
Whether alone or by the side
Of helpers - matters not at all -
Is doing nothing.
Just think of having not a thing
On earth to busy hand or brain.
I know not of a sharper sting,
Nor one ’twould give me keener pain
Than doing nothing.
Just eat and sleep and mope around;
No good deed done, no kind word said,
No darkened corner sought or found,
Where sunshine might with ease be shed -
Just doing nothing.
Kind Fate, spare me from such a lot.
I’d sooner, far, be numbered with
The silent sleepers in some spot
Where naught is known of kin or kith,
Than doing nothing.
By William Henry Dawson
William Henry Dawson, also known as W. H. Dawson, was born in 1853. He became a poet. He is the author of the book, “Sunshine of Hope, and Other Poems” (1910). William Henry Dawson passed on at about 75 years of age in 1928.
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