There was once a little comet who lived near the Milky
Way!
She loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
The mother of the comet was a very good old star--
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out
too far;
She told her of the ogre, Sun, who loved on stars to sup,
And who asked no better pastimes than gobbling comets
up.
But instead of growing cautious and of showing proper fear,
The foolish little comet edged up near, and near, and
near.
She switched her saucy tail along right where the Sun
could see,
And flirted with old Mars and was bold as bold could be.
She laughed to scorn the quiet stars, who never frisked
about;
She said there was no fun in life unless you ventured
out.
She liked to make the planets stare, and wished no better
mirth
Than just to see the telescopes aimed at her from the
Earth.
She wondered how so many stars could mope through nights
and days,
And let the sickly faced old moon get all the love and
praise.
And as she talked and tossed her head and switched her
shining trail,
The staid old mother star grew sad, her cheek grew wan
and pale.
For she had lived there in the skies a million years or
more,
And she had heard gay comets talk in just this way before.
And by and by there came an end to this gay comet's fun--
She went a tiny bit too far--and vanished in the Sun!
No more she swings her shining trail before the whole
world's sight,
But quiet stars she laughed to scorn are twinkling every
night.
Poems of Optimism. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1915.
Back to Poem Index |