Away with Action! ’tis the ban of Time, The curse that clung to us from Eden’s gate; We toil, and strain and tug from youth’s fair prime, And drag a chain for years, a weary weight! Away with Action and Laborious Life; They were not made for man, In Nature’s plan, For man is made for quiet, not for strife. The pearl is shaped serenely in its shell In the still waters of the ocean deep; The buried seed begins to pulp and swell In Earth’s warm bosom in profoundest sleep; And, sweeter far than all, the bridal rose Flushes to fullness in a soft repose. Let others gather honey in the world, And hoard it in their cells until they die; I am content in dreaminess to lie, Sipping, in summer hours, My wants from fading flowers, An Epicurean till my wings are furled! What happy hours! what happy, happy days I spent when I was young, a careless boy; Oblivious of the world—its wo or joy— I lived for song, and dreamed of budding bays! I thought when I was dead, if not before— (I hoped before!)—to have a noble name To leave my eager foot-prints on the shore And rear my statue in the halls of Fame!— I pondered o’er the Poets dead of old, Their memories living in the minds of men;— I knew they were but men of mortal mould, They won their crowns, and I might win again. I drank delicious vintage from their pages, Flasks of Parnassian nectar, stored for ages; My soul was flushed within me, maddened, fired, I leaped impassioned, like a seer inspired; I lived, and would have died for Poesy, In youth’s divine emotion— A stream that sought its ocean; A Time that longed to be Engulfed, and swallowed in a calm Eternity!