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Robert W Service - Ignorance
Work rating: Low

Oh happy he who cannot see
      With scientific eyes;
Who does not know how flowers grow,
      And is not planet wise;
Content to find with simple mind
      Joys as they are:
To whom a rose is just a rose,
      A star—a star.
      
It is not good, I deem, to brood
      On things beyond our ken;
A rustic I would live and die,
      Aloof from learned men;
And laugh and sing with zest of Spring
      In life`s exultant scene,—
For vain my be philosophy,
      And what does meaning mean?

I`m talking rot,—I`m really not
      As dumb as I pretend;
But happiness, I dimly guess,
      Is what counts in the end.
To educate is to dilate
      The nerves of pain:
So let us give up books and live
      Like hinds again.

The best of wisdom surely is
      To be not overwise;
For may not thought be evil fraught,
      And truth less kind than lies?
So let me praise the golden days
      I played a gay guitar,
And deemed a rose was just a rose,
      A star—a star.
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