A Poem for these times.

Watching Canada breaking, the coronavirus heading toward pandemic status and the stock market doing somersaults. These are momentous times where the man who can stand firm and walk his way despite every obstacle will eventually win through. Where walking his own path, away from the craziness, is his only option. So it is with me. My investments have taken a hit but I’m not going to panic. The markets are having a tizz and there’s nothing constructive I can do except stand fast.

Markets always bounce back because people need to trade. Without trade we all starve in the dark.

How do I know this? It’s an article of faith with me. A simple faith drawn from the stoic tradition of my forbears, and one echoed in a poem written over a hundred years ago. One which has hung on my wall so long I can pretty much recite it by heart. Don’t have to look. The truth it encapsulates is timeless. Here it is, read by Michael Caine.


When that fails I often recite the following little ditty to myself, one penned around the same era by Walter Alexander Raleigh – “Wishes of an Elderly Man Wished at a Garden Party”

I wish I loved the human race,
I wish I loved it’s silly face,
I wish I loved the way it walked,
I wish I loved the way it talked,
And when I’m introduced to one,
I wish I thought, “What jolly fun.”

5 thoughts on “A Poem for these times.”

    1. Greed? My investment capital helps give people jobs. In turn, they pay taxes which help fund, amongst other things, pensions.

      As far as I’m concerned it’s a win-win. The fact that I ‘lost’ a quarter of last years gains last month is disappointing, but not a game changer.

      The coronavirus has depressed the markets a little while they readjust, so I’ll probably get my losses back by July. The blockades are being ended and arrests finally being made, although there are ships still awaiting cargo all along the Straits of Georgia. In the meantime, we are planning on our own changes…..


      1. Dear Bill,
        I don’t much care about how much you earn. I think that you are a nice man who sometimes doesn’t know this.. But you try so hard to be a shit bag. You still haven’t convinced me.

        I own nothing beyond my house, but I don’t feel badly done by. Many things I should have done. But I didn’t.

        I remain half as well as you, but I do worry about you sometimes.


        1. Elena, I was brought up to be a gentleman.
          Therefore courtesy is automatically extended to everyone. Until they do me a disservice. After that all bets are off.

          I’m only nice for a given, and very specific, value of ‘nice’. As for my overt capitalism, I see nothing wrong with it. It’s nothing more than enlightened self interest. I see the benefits of my actions and they sit very easily with me.


        2. Me too, our kid. I just never had enough to make capital, so I am a teensy bit miffed.
          This is what comes of being a 60s woman. You couldn’t even get a mortgage without a man.

          You have actually misunderstood me, Nice is Nice. I am a pragmatist. And probably better at it.


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