It is not true to say I frowned,Or ran about the room and roared;I might have simply sat and snored -I rose politely in the clubAnd said, 'I feel a little bored;Will someone take me to a pub?'
She asks him whether he's happy. "Blissfully happy in your presence," he says, twinkling. "Otherwise I represent divine discontent."
This morning I looked up the poem. It's "A Ballade Of An Anti-Puritan" by G.K. Chesterton. Amazing.