Pretense. Pose. Dramedy. Tragedy.
Affectation and Simulation.
I catch myself lining the silver clouds with a tinge of gray,
When really I should be singing in the orange and reds of day!
What a silly, silly girl or boy it is
That cannot sing and dance and skip.
Brooding and wallowing in the dis-
Tant streak. Buck up young chip!
You’ll have your chance—
But in the while, join me in PRANCE
And singing.
Sweet, sweet singing.
Dreamy, earthbound singing.