A Poem for Those Who Allow Little Things to Upset Them

Sometimes we let a little thing
No larger than a midge's wing
Destroy a whole day's happiness.
We give it leeway, more or less,
And let it buzz and nip and sting,
Till one gets cross, and two get mad,
And three or four are hurt and sad.

And then, next day, on looking back,
We spy the microscopic beast.
Alas, alack!
Was that what started all the fuss?
That mite? We should have thought at least
It was a hippopotamus!

-- Nancy Byrd Turner, 1880-1971, Public Domain)


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