I

I do not hold with him who thinks 
The world is jonahed by a jinx; 
That everything is sad and sour, 
And life a withered hothouse flower.

II

I hate the Polyanna pest 
Who says that All Is for the Best, 
And hold in high, unhidden scorn 
Who sees the Rose, nor feels the Thorn.

III

I do not like extremists who 
Are like the pair in (I) and (II); 
But how I hate the wabbly gink, 
Like me, who knows not what to think!