Classic Poem

Philosopher! 'tis said you wail
Because the earth goes wrong:
Why, that, friend, is an ancient tale
And matter for a song.

The earth has never yet gone right,
But while to be it strives
'Tis better in my erring sight,
To cheer it all our lives.

There's something in the violet,
There's something in the rose,
Which makes me think old earth has yet
More in her than she shows;

A cousinship to happy stars
That burn when all is dark: —
And that 'tis wailful man that mars,
Philosopher, the mark.

For wailing, though it may be sweet,
It seldom can be sound:
Crackt instruments one note repeat
But are as crackt renown'd.

Now when my babe this earthly ball
First visited as man,
The little fellow lookt on all
Astonisht, & began

To cry, complain, & make a stir:
He saw that woes prevail'd
Now he was a philosopher
But twas not long he rail'd.

For learning that despite his cries
Though loud, change could not come,
This little fellow closed his eyes,
And calmly suckt his thumb.