A CURE FOR DEPRESSION.
Moments there are of transient gloom
When life for me appears to lose
Its rosy aspect and assume
The turnip's pessimistic hues;
As when o' mornings, gazing out
Across my patch of fog-grey river,
I feel a twinge of poor man's gout
Or else a touch of liver;
Or when, forgetting Watts's rhymes
On puppy-dogs that bark and bite,
The Westminster attacks The Times,
Starting a most unseemly fight;
Or when I find some Labour sheet
Still left at large to boom rebellion,
Or hear the thin pacific bleat
Of "my hon. friend" Trevelyan;
When enemy craft career above,
Unchallenged (till they've had their fling);
Or Little Willie's vernal shove
Anticipates the dawn of Spring;
When Neutrals want an open door
Kept wide for their commercial dealings,
And we must risk to lose the War
Rather than hurt their feelings.
Such moments, making Hope look bleak,
And Courage turn a little blue,
Even with hearts as tough as teak
May well occur; but, when they do,
This thought will readjust your bile
And prove the best of appetisers:—?
Would I exchange (here's where you smile)
Our chances with the Kaiser's?
O.S.