The Cheerful Caller
The Cheerful CallerHe dropped into my office with a grin upon his face,
He talked about the weather and the race.
He asked about the family, and told the latest joke.
But he never mentioned anyone who'd suddenly gone broke.
He talked of books and pictures, and the play he'd been to see.
A clever quip his friend had made he passed along to me.
He praised the suit of clothes I wore; he asked me what it cost.
But he never said a word about the money he had lost.
He was with me twenty minutes, smiling heavily, while he stayed,
O'er the memory of some silly blunder he had made.
Calamity and tragedy he mentioned not at all.
I thought it rather curious, when he had come and gone;
He must have had some tale of woe--but didn't pass it on.
For nowadays, it seems to me that every person I meet
Has something new in misery and moaning to repeat.
So I write these lines to him who had his share of woe,
But still could talk of other things, and let his troubles go.
I was happier with his visit. In a world that's sick with doubt,
'It was good to meet a man who wasn't spreading gloom about.
'Better still, be a man who wasn't spreading gloom about.
by © Sreekesh Menon at
9:21 AM
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