A Poem for Sunday - The Wisdom of Folly

The cynics say that every rose
is guarded by a thorn which grows to spoil our posies;
But I no pleasure therefore lack;
I keep my hands behind my back
When smelling roses.

Though outwardly a gloomy shroud 
Is bright and shining:
I therefore turn my clouds about,
And always wear them inside out
To show the lining.

My modus operandi this --
To take no heed of what's amiss;
Because, as Shakespeare used to say,
A merry heart goes twice the way
That tires a sad one.
 
      - Ellen Thorneycroft Fowle

         (The Honorable Mrs. Alfred Felkin)

From Verses Wise and Otherwise