From the Omaha Daily Bee, March 3, 1915. By David.
I had a friend when I was down
And everything seemed rotten,
And all the blessings I had known
Had long since been forgotten,
When crops were bad and eggs were scarce
And pigs got in the clover,
Who came and leaned against my fence
And cheerfully looked over,
And with a smug smile full of glee
And whistle aggravating
Regaled me with the maxim terse,
In tone exasperating:
“Remember that behind the clouds
The sun is always shining,
And clouds of life as well as sky
Have each their silver lining.”
Oh, then I had a fierce desire
To seize upon a missile
And end his exhortation
With the stopping of his whistle.
But with a sickly smile I said,
All platitudes eschewing,
“That all depends upon the point
From which you do your viewing.
And also it depends upon
The way the cloud’s inclining.
’Tis doubtless true, my clouds to you
May have a silver lining,
But silver linings do not show
To those directly under.
They may be there; I do not know.
To me they look like thunder.”