The Pessimist

The pessimist's a cheerless man;
—To him the world's a place
Of anxious thoughts and clouds and gloom;
—Smiles visit not his face.

Though brightest sunshine floods the earth,
—And flowers are all ablow,
He spreads depression where he can
—By dismal tales of woe.

The pessimist's a hopeless man,
—He's full of doubt and fear;
No radiant visions come to him
—Of glad days drawing near.

The pessimist's a joyless man,
—He finds no sweet delight
In making this a happier world,
—In fighting for the right.

He views the future with alarm,
—He sees no light ahead;
Most wretched of all men is he,
—Because his hope is dead.

The pessimist's a cheerless man;
—To him the world's a place
Of anxious thoughts and clouds and gloom;
—Smiles visit not his face.

Though brightest sunshine floods the earth,
—And flowers are all ablow,
He spreads depression where he can
—By dismal tales of woe.

The pessimist's a hopeless man,
—He's full of doubt and fear;
No radiant visions come to him
—Of glad days drawing near.

The pessimist's a joyless man,
—He finds no sweet delight
In making this a happier world,
—In fighting for the right.

He views the future with alarm,
—He sees no light ahead;
Most wretched of all men is he,
—Because his hope is dead.
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