Two Moods

Ah, blame him not because hes gay!     That he should smile, and jest, and play     But shows how lightly he can bear,     How well forget that load which, where     Thought is, is with it, and howeer     Dissembled, or indeed forgot,     Still is a load, and ceases not.     This aged earth that each new spring     Comes forth so young, so ravishing     In summer robes for all to see,     Of flower, and leaf, and bloomy tree,     For all her scarlet, gold, and green,     Fails not to keep within unseen     That inner purpose and that force     Which on the untiring orbits course     Around the sun, amidst the spheres     Still bears her thro the eternal years.     Ah, blame the flowers and fruits of May,     And then blame him because hes gay.     Ah, blame him not, for not being gay,     Because an hundred times a day     He doth not currently repay     Sweet words with ready words as sweet,     And for each smile a smile repeat.     To mute submissiveness confined,     Blame not, if once or twice the mind     Its pent-up indignation wreak     In scowling brow and flushing cheek,     And smiles curled back as soon as born,     To dire significance of scorn.     Nor blame if once, and once again     He wring the hearts of milder men,     If slights, the worse if undesigned,     Should seem unbrotherly, unkind;     For though tree wave, and blossom blow     Above, earth hides a fire below;     Her seas the starry laws obey,     And she from her own ordered way,     Swerves not, because it dims the day     Or changes verdure to decay.     Ah, blame the great world on its way,     And then blame him for not being gay.