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My Sonnets

[by W. C. Bennett]

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2

[Away with care—away,—]

Away with care—away,—
A word he is not worth,
Who asks of us to-day
A reason for our mirth;
We'll banish tears and sighs
Till days long, long, hereafter,
If sorrow dare to rise,
Why kill it straight with laughter.
Let none, with owlish air
Of wisdom in his face,
Bring hither sullen care,—
Let this be folly's place.
Who quotes a printed page
Let him not hope to stay;
The merriest is most sage,
So laugh with us to-day.

61

There are who'd make our age
Too wise to smile, but they
Are only truly sage
Who laugh while laugh they may;
Of such, each one's an ass,
Not wise as we by half,
Who'd have it come to pass
That all the world should laugh.
Why's earth so green below?
Why's heaven so blue above?
Why's all so fair?—to show
We're made to laugh and love.
Tears,—keep them for the morrow,—
A fig for him, I say,
Who will the greybeard sorrow
Not mock with us to-day.
Of yore he won the prize
Who best the ale could quaff,
But we'll hold him most wise,
The loudest who can laugh.
We'll plunder dance and song
Of all their mirth, nor fling,
While bound the hours along,
Away one joy they bring.
December 25th, 1842.