MT (06.06.1971 / Crawley)

Liii. The Inconvenience Of Being A Buffoon

'Tis but a sorry sort of praise to be
A droll, the jester of each company,
A raiser of loud laughter, a buffoon,
The sport, and the diversion of the town.
For he that strains to please and humour all,
Into the common shore of talk must sail.
He that would make each merry, must of force,
With ev'ry folly temper his discourse;
Sometimes talk downright bawdry, then defy
The gods, and laugh at dull morality.
For such behaviour, what can you expect
But to be laugh'd at and to lose respect?
You think you're much admir'd, tho' much deceived,
You're neither lov'd, respected, nor believ'd.
For who would trust, love, honour, or commend
The wretch, who for a jest betrays his friend;
To whom there's nought so dear in heav'n or earth,
He would not make the subject of his mirth.

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Rudyard Kipling


Comments (5)

I love this poem, Misty.(: Keep up the great poems.
Beautiful i'm sat here tears streaming down my face Misty babe xxxxxxxx
Misty that is a very lonely poem you wrote, with lots of love that you expressed your love for your child. so four kids grow from a baby to adult hood, the time passes so fast, so i know what you mean, keep writing.
Truely a lovely poem Misty. Take care and best wishes...
where have you kept that? did I stifel you that much? god I hate my self right now misty why! ! ! ! ! ! ! !