Envy

While trying to find a very important piece of paper that I seem to have misplaced, I was cleaning up my desk. I unburied a book I have of my Grandma Johnson's. It's a poetry book by Edgar A. Guest. (one of my favorites) There isn't a lot marked in this book, but on the very back cover is written in pencil- pg 823. On page 823 is a poem entitled "Envy". It's very poignant in a day where we are constantly comparing ourselves to others. (and usually our worst traits to their best ones.) It really made me stop and ponder. And I just wanted to share it with you.

Envy.......... by Edgar A. Guest

I wonder if the poppy shows
The slightest envy of the rose?

Or if the pansy wastes its time
Regretting that it cannot climb?

Do blossoms of a yellow hue
Complain because they are not blue?

Do birds which God designed to sing
Envy the wild ducks' fleeter wing?

And does the sparrow sadly mourn
Because he was not goldfinch born?

I cannot say, but fancy not.
Each seems contented with his lot.

'Tis only man who thinks that he
Some other man would rather be.