I SING my song the whole day long, and keep my harp a-going, to try to cheer the people near, while dodging bricks they're throwing. I sing of hope and all such dope, of gay and bright tomorrows, of canning care and black despair, and putting lids on sorrows. Year after year this sort of cheer, I'm tirelessly providing, and my winged steed keeps up his speed, though galled by too much riding. Throughout this land the folks will stand a lot of misfit singing, if but the bard, when whooping hard, a gladsome note is springing. Though cracked his voice, if he'll rejoice, and laugh at woe and wailing, men will remark, "Long may his bark on smiling seas be sailing!" Yet poets write of starless night, and ghouls and women weeping, of lovers dead and vampires dread that batten on the sleeping. The dismal pote oft finds his goat has from his keeping wandered; his odes won't bring enough, by jing, to have his nightie laundered. For in this vale the rhythmic wail will never tempt sane buyers, who'll blow their piles for cheerful smiles and lays by lilting liars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WORLD by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER THE PESSIMIST by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING NATURE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FROM AN EXCAVATION ON THE WARRIOR RIVER by ESTHER BARRETT ARGO DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES STANZAS TO HELEN M-- M-- by BERNARD BARTON OUR MORNING GLORY by LEVI BISHOP SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIOGIONE: GEMMA'S SONG ON THE WATER by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |