The Moper

The Moper mopeth all the day;          He mopeth eke at night;      And never is the Moper gay,      But, grim and serious alway,          He is a sorry sight.      He liketh not the merry quip;          He hateth other men;      Escheweth he companionship,      Nor doth he e'er essay to trip          The light fantastic ten.      He seeketh not where murm'ring brooks          With rippling music flow.      He seeth naught in woman's looks,      And never readeth he in books          Except they tell of woe.      He e'en forgetteth that the sun,          Likewise God's balmy air,      Were made to gladden every one;      But he preferreth both to shun,          And taketh not his share.      He careth not for merry wights          Who drink Chteau Yquem,      But he would set the world to rights      By peopling it with eremites -          And very few of them.      When children sport with merry glee,          He thinketh they are wild,      And with them doth so disagree      It seemeth verily that he          Hath never been a child.      He thinketh that it is not right          Rare dishes to discuss,      And knoweth not the keen delight      Of one that hath an appetite          Yclepd ravenous.      Of goodly raiment he hath none,          He calleth it "display;"      Wherefore the urchin poketh fun,      Because he looketh like that one          Unholy men call "jay."      And so we see this foolish man          All pleasant things doth scorn.      Good folk, pray God to change his plan,      And cheer the Moper if He can,          Or let no more be born!