FILL PLEASURE'S BOWL.
I
Fill pleasure's bowl at Lethe's stream,
And I'll be gay at last;
The draught that makes the future bright,
Must drown the dreary past.
But fill me not the bowl with wine,
I shun the dull excess;
For that which makes you light of heart
My spirits would depress.
II
Oh! you see around the board,
The friends you wish to meet;
Where once the smile of friendship shone,
You'll view no vacant seat;
Their laughing mirth to one so blest
You pleasure will impart;
And songs of love are sure to find
An echo in your heart.
III
Then, fill me not the bowl with wine,
But fill at Lethe's stream,
Drive sad regret from daily thought,
And from my troubled dream:
Let unawaken'd mem'ry lie,
As at an infant's birth;
And hope again may make me prize
The future scenes of earth.
IV
But no,—it is an idle thought,
I ask the boon in vain;
I never at the social board
Can be a guest again;
Their laughing mirth to one so sad
New sadness will impart,
And songs of love are sure to find
An echo in my heart.
