English poem
DITHYRAMBIC ODE II. To LAUGHTER
by John Pinkerton (1845–1908)
The violet that in the lonely stream Beholds her humble head, Tho saved from icy breeze or sultry beam, Her fragrant leaves must shed. Along the stream that fed Her life, the fragrant leaves are tost, Till in the ruthless ocean lost.
Meet emblem of man's fading joy, That, tho saved from all annoy, On time's inevitable wave Still hastens to the grave!
To taste the fragrance of the flower, And not the flower destroy, Is wisdom. Haste, the fleeting hour Ye race of Mirth employ.
Thou, Laughter, lead the festal band; Wit and Humour, hand in hand, Sports that dance, and Sports that sing, Love and Rapture with thee bring. Now when merry Spring reposes On her bed of balmy roses, In fantastic measures revel All along the flowery level.
Sweet melody pervades the luminous air . The jocund tribes appear!
My suppliant thy wish declare; Lo I wait to hear thy prayer.
While some, tho wise, in mental gloom Their melancholy hours entomb; And, from terror of the morrow, Waste the given day in sorrow: Attend, propitious Power, my claim! Do thou invading cares repell: With thee, dear goddess, let me dwell, And laugh at life's amusing game.