Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PESSIMISM, by ANONYMOUS First Line: "bright-faced maiden, bright-souled maiden" Last Line: Goethe says -- and so say I Subject(s): Life;pessimism | ||||||||
BRIGHT-FACED maiden, bright-souled maiden, What is this that I must hear? Is thy heart with sorrow laden, Is thine eye dimmed with a tear? Can it be that lips so sweetly Rounded to be kindly kissed Could be twisted indiscreetly To the vile word Pessimist? Not for thine own ills thou weepest; Softly feathered is thy nest; When thou wakest, when thou sleepest, Thou art fortuned with the best. But thy sisters and thy brothers Pierced with many a woful smart, Dying children, wailing mothers, Fret thy nerve and stab thy heart. In the country, in the city, Godless deeds, a loveless list, Stir thy blood and move thy pity, And thou art a PESSIMIST. Storms and wars and tribulations, Fevered passions' reinless tide, With insane hallucinations Mingled, travel far and wide. Can there be an Eye inspecting Things so tumbling in pell-mell, With a cool control directing Such a hotbed, such a hell? Nay, sweet maid, but think more slowly; Though this thing and that be sad, 'T is a logic most unholy That the gross of things is bad; 'T is a trick of melancholy, Tainting life with death's alloy; Or in wisdom, or in folly, Nature still delights in joy. Dost thou hear of starving sinners, -- Nine and ten, or ninety-nine? Many thousands eat good dinners, Many hundreds quaff good wine. Hast thou seen a score of cripples? Equal legs are not uncommon; If you know one fool that tipples, Thousands drink not -- man and woman; Tell me if you know how many Murders happen in the town? One a year, perhaps, if any; Should that weight your heart quite down? No doubt, if you read the papers, You will find a strange hotch-potch -- Doting dreams, delirious capers, Many a blunder, blot, and blotch; Bags of windy speculation, Babblement of small and great, Cheating, swindling, peculation, Squabblement of Church and State; Miners blown up, humbugs shown up, Beaten wives, insulted brides, Raving preachers, witless teachers, Lunatics and suicides; Drains and cesspools, faintings, fevers, Poisoned cats and stolen collies, Simple women, gay deceivers, Every sort and size of follies; Wandering M. P.'s brainless babble, Deputations, meetings, dinners, Riots of the lawless rabble, Purple sins of West End sinners; Driving, dicing, drinking, dancing, Spirit rapping, ghostly stuff; Bubble schemes and deft financing, When the shares are blown enough. All this is true; when men cut capers That make the people talk or stare, To-morrow when you ope the papers You're sure to find their antics there. But you and I and all our neighbors Meanwhile, in pure and peaceful ways, With link on link of fruitful labors, Draw out our chain of happy days. See things as they are; be sober; Balance well life's loss and gain; If to-day be chill October, Summer suns will come again. Are bleak winds forever sighing? Do dark clouds forever lower? Are your friends all dead and dying? All your sweetness turned to sour? Great men, no doubt, have sometimes small ways, But a horse is not an ass, And a black snake is not always Lurking in the soft green grass. Don't be hasty, gentle lady, In this whirl of diverse things Keep your footing, and with steady Poise control your equal wings. All things can't to all be pleasant; I love bitter, you love sweet; Some faint when a cut is present; Rats find babies' cheeks a treat. If all tiny things were tall things, If all petty things were grand, Where would greatness be, when all things On one common level stand? Do you think the winged breezes, Fraught with healthy ventilation, When a tender infant sneezes Should retreat with trepidation? When dry Earth to Heaven is calling For soft rain and freshening dew, Shall the rain refrain from falling Lest my lady wet her shoe? Fools still rush to rash conclusions, And the mole-eyed minion, man, Talks of troubles and confusions, When he sees not half the plan. Spare to blame and fear to cavil, With short leave dismiss your pain, Let no fretful fancies revel In the sanctum of your brain. Use no magnifying-glasses To change molehills into mountains, Nor on every ill that passes Pour hot tears from bitter fountains. Trust in God and know your duty; Some good things are in your power; Every day will bring its booty From the labor of the hour. Never reck what fools are prating, Work and wait, let sorrow lie; "Live and love; have done with hating," Goethe says -- and so say I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PESSIMIST by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING PESSIMIST AND OPTIMIST by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848, CONTINUED by MATTHEW ARNOLD A SERIOUS REFLECTION ON HUMAN LIFE, SELECTION by HENRY BAKER THE OPTIMIST AND THE PESSIMIST; A DIALOGUE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE PESSIMIST by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON REALSIM by VERA WARDNER DOUGAN TIS A LITTLE JOURNEY by ANONYMOUS |
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