That is a pose meant for art:
Not for people who have nerves;
Not for those highly strung
And living on the edge.

No! You shall forbear, brook, abide,
Take it like a beast, resist!
Lie in the lap of good
And make the best of it!
What's the point of being impatient,
Fretful, restive, in a sweat,
All hopped up and in a lather,
Too breathless to submit?

For life is palmy, sunny, bright,
Delightful, pleasant, sweet and nice,
Divine, sublime, fetching, fine
..... Most of the time.

ii
Sometimes life's unpleasant: sour
Enough to make a preacher swear;
So bad, that it becomes more
Than flesh and blood can bear.

So be happy, just like larks
Soaring high in joyful bliss.
With - joie de vivre — pleased as Punch!
May you be four times blessed!

There's natural shocks enough to wound
And ghost your lives with misery,
Without arrows barbed with trouble
Aimed at your closet histories.

Have no belly for such tosh!
It shouldn't happen to a dog.
Of all the ills, the sickest pill
Is a phial of vile gossip.