Many good, attractive people spoil the merits they have by trying to be something bigger or showier. It is always best to be one's self.

A rooster one morning was preening his feathers
That glistened so bright in the sun;
He admired the tints of the various colors
As he laid them in place one by one.
Now as roosters go he was a fine bird,
And he should have been satisfied;
But suddenly there as he marched along,
Some peacock feathers he spied.
They had beautiful spots and their colors were gay—
He wished that his own could be green;
He dropped his tail, tried to hide it away;
Was completely ashamed to be seen.

Then his foolish mind hatched up a scheme—
A peacock yet he could be;
So he hopped behind a bush to undress
Where the other fowls could not see.
He caught his own tail between his bill,
And pulled every feather out;
And into the holes stuck the peacock plumes;
Then proudly strutted about.
The other fowls rushed to see the queer sight;
And the peacocks came when they heard;
They could not agree just what he was,
But pronounced him a funny bird.

Then the chickens were angry that one of their kind
Should try to be a peacock;
And the peacocks were mad that one with their tail
Should belong to a common fowl flock.
So the chickens beset him most cruelly behind,
And yanked his whole tail out together;
The peacocks attacked him madly before,
And pulled out each chicken feather.
And when he stood stripped clean down to the skin,
A horrible thing to the rest,
He learned this sad lesson when it was too late—
As his own simple self he was best.

Joseph Morris.