Song
Where is the heart that would not give
Years of drowsy days and nights,
One little hour, like this, to live—
Full, to the brim, of life’s delights?
Look, look around,
This fairy ground,
With love-lights glittering o’er;
While cups that shine
With freight divine
Go coasting round its shore.
Hope is the dupe of future hours,
Memory lives in those gone by;
Neither can see the moment’s flowers
Springing up fresh beneath the eye,
Wouldst thou, or thou,
Forego what’s now,
For all that Hope may say?
No—Joy’s reply,
From every eye,
Is, “Live we while we may,”