  I am not prone to moralize In scientific doubt On certain facts that Nature tries To puzzle us about,— For I am no philosopher Of wise elucidation, But speak of things as they occur, From simple observation. I notice little things—to wit:— I never missed a train Because I didn’t run for it; I never knew it rain That my umbrella wasn’t lent,— Or, when in my possession, The sun but wore, to all intent, A jocular expression. I never knew a creditor To dun me for a debt But I was “cramped” or “bu’sted”; or I never knew one yet, When I had plenty in my purse, To make the least invasion,— As I, accordingly perverse, Have courted no occasion. Nor do I claim to comprehend What Nature has in view In giving us the very friend To trust we oughtn’t to.— But so it is: The trusty gun Disastrously exploded Is always sure to be the one We didn’t think was loaded. Our moaning is another’s mirth,— And what is worse by half, We say the funniest thing on earth And never raise a laugh: ’Mid friends that love us overwell, And sparkling jests and liquor, Our hearts somehow are liable To melt in tears the quicker. We reach the wrong when most we seek The right; in like effect, We stay the strong and not the weak— Do most when we neglect.— Neglected genius—truth be said— As wild and quick as tinder, The more you seek to help ahead The more you seem to hinder. I’ve known the least the greatest, too— And, on the selfsame plan, The biggest fool I ever knew Was quite a little man: We find we ought, and then we won’t— We prove a thing, then doubt it,— Know everything but when we don’t |
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