CARE enough—enough of SORROW
Every mortal man has known:
Whilst we think upon to-morrow,
What we call’d to-day is flown.
Yes! ’tis flown, let welcome night, then,
Spread her lunar radiance wide,
Let the goblet of DELIGHT, then,
Pour around its circling tide.
Soon the MORN again shall meet us,
Soon the the glorious sun shall rise;
Joys of DAY again shall greet us,
When each nightly rapture dies.
Dreary wretch! whose bounded notions,
Lost in sullen fogs of spleen,
Or like tempest-troubled oceans,
Darken with the darken’d scene!
Let us, nobler souls possessing,
If we cannot fight with FATE,
Grasp at bliss, enjoy each blessing,
Tho’ of momentary date.
BLISSFUL MOMENTS—still uniting,
Hours—and days—and years compose;
Let us then, new JOYS inviting,
Happier moments add to those.
CARE, avaunt thee! ENVY, perish!
What have we with GRIEF to do?
MIRTH, GOOD-HUMOUR, LOVE we’ll cherish,
JOYS embrace and JOYS pursue.