When out upon a promenade her tears she cannot hide,
To think she is obliged to walk while other folks can ride.
But if she drives, why then she weeps—it is so hard to be
Perched stiffly in a carriage seat while other girls run free.
She used to cry herself quite sick to think she had to go
Month after month to dreary schools; that was her constant woe.
But on her graduating day, my, how her tears did run!
It seemed so sorrowful to know that her school life was done.
One day she wept because she saw a funeral train go by—
It was so sad that she must live while other folks could die.
And really all her friends will soon join with her in those tears
Unless she takes a brighter view of life ere many years.
The conceited girl or woman is tiresome and unpleasant as a companion, but the morbidly discontented woman is far worse. Perhaps you have met her, with her eternal complaint of the injustice of Fate toward her.
She feels that she is born for better things than have befallen her; her family does not understand her; her friends misjudge her; the public slights her.
If she is married she finds herself superior to her husband and to her associates. She is eternally longing for what she has not, and when she gets it is dissatisfied.
The sorrowful side of life alone appeals to her.