Classic Poem

indoors and out

See here a foolish fellow sat,
Who all his life does waste,
To reason deaf, yet always he
To senseless sport will haste.

His literature though small is low,
Good books he does despise,
For see — beneath the table, torn
The precious volume lies.

His walls with printed trash are hung,
One picture yet is there,
Split with a blow and o'er the frame
The spider makes its lair.

To botany he does aspire
But yet with small success —
But let us from this picture turn
Of sloth, and foolishness.