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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.”

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