When in the dumps, I hate the things
That ordinarily I love.
I loathe the lark that blindly sings;
I hate the bland, blue sky above.
The crocus, sneering on the lawn,
Forsythia about to bloom—
I’d like to see them dead and gone,
Instead of filling life with gloom.
But most of all, I do not care,
While I am droning in my hive,
To hear vivacious chums declare
How great it is to be alive.
Margaret Fishback, “Down with Bluebirds” from Poems Made Up to Take Out. Copyright © 1963 by Margaret Fishback. Reprinted by permission of Anthony Antolini.
Source: Poems Made Up to Take Out (D. McKay Co., 1963)
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