Average days breed average responses.
Whatever's ordinary and routine
Will rear its head again, out of the sconces
In which such things are kept to lie unseen
Until they're needed: little pigeonholes
Inside the mind, from which, on such a day,
They peer back out, to mollify men's souls
With customariness. And well they may.
If every day required brand new thought,
Originality, zest, effort, verve,
Mankind would to its knees swiftly be brought.
Routine and custom by design must serve
To let our minds stew on the background issues
While we, in sniffles, just reach for the tissues.
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