There are people who, without having anything exceptional in their
natures or purposes or visions, yet try to be different for the sake of
being different. They are not content to be what they are; they wish to
be "utterly other." Of course they are hollow, artificial, insincere;
moreover they are nuisances. Their very foundations are wrong ones. Be
_yourself_ unless you're a fool; in that case, of course, try to be
somebody else.
"I want to be new," said the duckling.
"O ho!" said the wise old owl,
While the guinea-hen cluttered off chuckling
To tell all the rest of the fowl.
"I should like a more elegant figure,"
That child of a duck went on.
"I should like to grow bigger and bigger,
Until I could swallow a swan.
"I _won't_ be the bond slave of habit,
I _won't_ have these webs on my toes.
I want to run round like a rabbit,
A rabbit as red as a rose.
"I _don't_ want to waddle like mother,
Or quack like my silly old dad.
I want to be utterly other,
And _frightfully_ modern and mad."
"Do you know," said the turkey, "you're quacking!
There's a fox creeping up thro' the rye;
And, if you're not utterly lacking,
You'll make for that duck-pond. Good-bye!"
But the duckling was perky as perky.
"Take care of your stuffing!" he called.
(This was horribly rude to a turkey!)
"But you aren't a real turkey," he bawled.
"You're an Early-Victorian Sparrow!
A fox is more fun than a sheep!
I shall show that _my_ mind is not narrow
And give him my feathers--to keep."
Now the curious end of this fable,
So far as the rest ascertained,
Though they searched from the barn to the stable,
Was that _only his feathers remained._
So he _wasn't_ the bond slave of habit,
And he _didn't_ have webs on his toes;
And _perhaps_ he runs round like a rabbit,
A rabbit as red as a rose.
_Alfred Noyes._