Come, Bliss. Who likes a fretting child?
It is the mirthful spright we love.
On Joy, propitious gods have smiled.
No worthier cherub dwells above.
In laughing eyes we lingering gaze;
There’s beauty in a happy face!
If Gladness lacked in classic mould
Were not his charms yet manifold?
Come, Spirit, then—come, social Cheer.
We crave diversion and delight.
With thy sweet smiles dry Sorrow’s tear;
Bright angels’ visits make our lives more bright.