--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Hope collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 16 number: 1 published: 1912-11 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Hope, "A Difference of Opinion. A Poem," *Improvement Era* 16, no. 1 (November 1912): 23.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1601unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1601unse start_page: 23 end_page: 23 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1912-11) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1601unse publication_year: 1912 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1912, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # A Difference of Opinion. A Poem 31 difference of ©pinion. I stood in a book store the other day, And, lost to the world, I might as well say ; Soon a voice near by disturbed me in thought ; Around I turned, for these words I had caught : "Poor thing, she is daft, gone wrong in the head, No end to the books they say she has read. She stays home from balls, and socials as well ; I think her quite stupid, if truth I must tell. She spends so much cash in all kinds of books, You'd think she'd care more for personal looks ; Oh, she dresses neatly, but then so plain, With never a ring, a broach or a chain." To myself I answered, then, with a smile, Closing a book I was reading meanwhile : "Yes, pleasures I find, at eve and at morn, OIn those very books which you seem to scorn. I sigh not for want of bonnet or dress, My love for fine clothes grows ever the less ; I pray it may do so, for that is the best, And wisdom I will not gauge by your test ; Your life, I imagine, is time idly spent, To teas, and to bridge, to gossip it's lent. Sensible people you tire with your chat Of gowns, a ring, a purse, or a hat. My time, yes, I'll spend in some quiet nook, Admiring the talent in some famous book. Of mankind I would know their joy and pain, And weigh the secrets of heart and brain. Had I the money you spend in pleasure, I'd give to art — nor regret the treasure. O yes, the books are like fragrance of flowers That gladdens my heart the saddest of hours. 'Mid vanity's weeds I don't mean to grope, But live in a garden of roses, I hope : At the gates of heaven, we must pay for sin — Well — we'll see who's pardoned, and then let in." HOPE. ■ ^