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    painting of bright houses in the night

    It Could Be Worse

    By A. E. Stallings

    July 1, 2025
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    It could be worse, my dear, it could be worse.
    The world is ending—this was always true.
    But that could be a blessing, not a curse.

    We’ve made a sow’s ear out of a silk purse,
    The permafrost is neither, sea’s less blue.
    It could be worse, my dear, it could be worse.

    In tragedy, the chorus moans in verse;
    Prose is available to me and you,
    And that could be a blessing, not a curse.

    Some roles we improvise, and some rehearse;
    Let’s swell a progress, start a scene or two!
    It could be worse, my dear, it could be worse:

    Grudges, infants, fears, small things we nurse.
    The future is a dream that will come true.
    But that could be a blessing, not a curse.

    Only by spending, will love reimburse—
    The world is ending. But that’s nothing new.
    It could be worse, my dear, it could be worse,
    And this could be a blessing, not a curse.

     

    painting of bright houses in the night

    Tim Goulding, Evening Allihies Village 4, acrylic and oil on canvas. Artwork by Tim Goulding. Used by permission.

    Contributed By A. E. Stallings A. E. Stallings

    A. E. (Alicia) Stallings lives in Athens, Greece, with her husband, and is serving as the Oxford Professor of Poetry.

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