They Say My Verse Is Sad: No

I Am Not A Pessimist But A Pejorist (as George Eliot Said She Was Not An Optimist But A Meliorist); And That Philosophy Is Founded On My Observation Of The World, Not On Anything So Trivial And Irrelevant As Personal History.

Give Me A Land Of Boughs In Leaf A Land Of Trees That Stand; Where Trees Are Fallen There Is Grief; I Love No Leafless Land.

Now Hollow Fires Burn Out To Black, And Lights Are Guttering Low: Square Your Shoulders, Lift Your Pack And Leave Your Friends And Go.

Give Crowns And Pounds And Guineas But Not Your Heart Away; Give Pearls Away And Rubies, But Keep Your Fancy Free.

Ale, Man, Ale's The Stuff To Drink For Fellows Whom It Hurts To Think.