MIRTH.
Who has not felt his pulses gaily leap
And throb and burn, the feeble step grow light
And freer speed to scale life's fairest height
As some sweet song, or merry jest or deep
Toned humorous note lulls lagging care to sleep.
Man may be mirthful built and yet contrite,
May bear a buoyant heart through darkest night
Whilst hope and love their angel vigil keep
Twin foes of fear and gloom. Oh, loyal soul
That dares to walk upright with dauntless tread;
Amid the din of battle and the roll
Of thunder-guns storm shattered o'er thy head,
Press on, press ever onward, to the goal,
And round thee joy-refulgent freely shed.