My Virtual Reading Room

Confessions of a Reluctant Optimist

When flaming comrades I admire
(And in whose breasts was ever coddled
Dissatisfaction's honest fire)
Argue how to their hearts' desire
The universe should be remodeled--

When of their wrongs they call the roll,
Vowing that fortune is a hellion,
Shamefaced I sit, an outcast soul,
Incapable of true rebellion.

For, though aware that life is what
One ought to view with wrath and gravity,
I live delighted with my lot,
Sunk in content as in depravity.

Less woman, I expect, than mouse,
To alter fate I would not bother.
I like my plain suburban house,
I like my children and their father.

Quite able to believe the decks
Are stacked for females--much it boots me!
I would not willing change my sex.
It is the very sex that suits me.

In fact, I find it hard to see
Exactly what I ought disparage.
I like my nationality,
I like my relatives-by-marriage.

Trapped, tricked, enslaved, but lacking sense
To enter in the conflict single,
I wear my chains like ornaments,
Convinced they make a charming jingle.

Alas, alack, how well I know
My kind's a drawback to the nation!
But here I am and here I go,
Contented with the status quo,
And quite beyond salvation.

(Phyllis McGinley)