CONTENTMENT.

Friend, there be they on whom mishap

Or never or so rarely comes,

That, when they think thereof, they snap

Derisive thumbs:

And there be they who lightly lose

Their all, yet feel no aching void;

Should aught annoy them, they refuse

To be annoy'd:

And fain would I be e'en as these!

Life is with such all beer and skittles;

They are not difficult to please

About their victuals:

The trout, the grouse, the early pea,

By such, if there, are freely taken;

If not, they munch with equal glee

Their bit of bacon:

And when they wax a little gay

And chaff the public after luncheon,

If they're confronted with a stray

Policeman's truncheon,

They gaze thereat with outstretch'd necks,

And laughter which no threats can smother,

And tell the horror-stricken X

That he's another.

In snowtime if they cross a spot

Where unsuspected boys have slid,

They fall not down — though they would not

Mind if they did:

When the spring rosebud which they wear

Breaks short and tumbles from its stem,

No thought of being angry e'er

Dawns upon them;

Though‘ twas Jemima's hand that placed,

( As well you ween ) at evening's hour,

In the loved button-hole that chaste

And cherish'd flower.

And when they travel, if they find

That they have left their pocket-compass

Or Murray or thick boots behind,

They raise no rumpus,

But plod serenely on without:

Knowing it's better to endure

The evil which beyond all doubt

You cannot cure.

When for that early train they're late,

They do not make their woes the text

Of sermons in the Times, but wait

On for the next;

And jump inside, and only grin

Should it appear that that dry wag,

The guard, omitted to put in

Their carpet-bag.