If nights were wet dark and strange
If flowers bloomed ceaseless through the
If woods were always gay and never drear,
If the river danced forever in the sun,
If songs of twitterng birds were never
This glorious world a wretched bore
A bore insufferable to thee and me.
If you were always decorous and mild,
And never wicked, obstinate, and wild;
If only smiles and laughter through the
Grew on your life, and vou were never
If shadows never immed your star-lit
If songs were always yours and never
You, Pyrrha, too, would be as much a
As other folks, and I don't know but more.
___James Willis Gleed