That nearly all, both knave and fool,
Were on the make.

Jim Brown was cheerful as the sun;
He thought the world a lovely place,
Exhibiting to every one
A smiling face.

He thought that every man was fair;
He had no cause to sob or sigh;
He said that everything was square
As any die.

Dear reader, would you rather be
Like Jim, not crediting the ill,
Joyous in your serenity,
Or right, like Bill?



When Nobody Listens

_At not at all infrequent spells
I hear--and so do you--
The tales that everybody tells
And no one listens to._

"You talk about excitement. Well
Last summer, up at Silver Dell,
Jim Brown and I took a canoe