Classic Poem

Almighty Dispenser of good things and ill,
Purveyor of foods that delight or annoy;
Thou that doth every man's little cup fill
With draughts to be drained of sorrow or joy:
Disgusted we come to the Presence to-day,
Sans flattering speeches of moment and pith,
But simply and briefly and bluntly to say
That we firmly believe that Job was a myth.

We are weary of patience and all of that cant
About love that can chasten love gasping for breath.
We are minus the faith that can cheerfully rant
Of the blessings of life in the presence of death.
We do not believe in the silver that lines
The horse-blanket clouds spread above us for weeks,
For we know all the silver is safe in the mines
That is not in the pockets of somebody's breeks.

We are weary of funerals, weary of tears,
We are weary of pushing unpushable walls;
We are weary of leveling mountains of fears —
Of building a Hope that instantly falls.
We have given to Misery more than her half,
We have rendered to Gloom more years than are his,
We have moped long enough! Great God let us laugh
Before we forget what a laugh really is!