Poem by Charles Mackay

Mirth

Come, soul-inspiring Mirth,
I'll twine a wreath for thee,
With flowers of spring-time birth,
Born amid Nature's glee:
Born when the cuckoo sung
Its notes of joy to God,
And the sunny day-beam flung
Smiles o'er the flowery sod.

But, lord of jest and jeer,
Come in thy fairest trim,
Let smiling Wit be near,
With eye that's never dim:
Come with the flowing bowl
And the rosy wine to me,
And beam upon my soul,
Ere I twine a wreath for thee. 

1. Old Opinions
2. The Young Earth
3. The Poor Man's Bird
4. What Might Be Done
5. The Light in the Window

Robert Herrick Mirth ("True mirth resides not in the smiling skin")

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