I might have been a worker, but I'm nothing but a drone. br I tell my idle stories in a philosophic tone. br In a fuzzy, spiny mantle of remoteness softly furled br I lie and watch with half-shut eyes the stupefying world. br br And they bustle and they rustle with their self-consuming din. br And eager feet go hurrying out and tired feet come in. br Like Bottom, when they hear a sound they all must rush to see. br They're always running after life. I let it come to me.