Come, sing, my Muse, our honoured Guest— Before the toasts are started— Of all philosophers the best, Because the lightest hearted. He well deserves a golden rhyme To-night, and oft hereafter, Who roused, while laughing at his time, Its sympathetic laughter. Life's dearest charm in laughter lies, And, if this creed were common, The universe would scarce comprise A sulky man or woman. To laugh is man's divinest art: And—loud, or gayly chaffing— The truest echo from the heart Of either sex is—laughing. Let @3us@1 then banish from our feast All thoughts of melancholy, And glorify the quaint high priest Of fancy, fun and folly. Thy health, Mark Twain! Of wits like thee I would there were a few more, To temper subtle French @3esprit@1 With fine old English humour! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER TU FU (THEY SAY YOU'RE STAYING IN A MOUNTAIN TEMPLE) by MARVIN BELL ANCHORED TO THE INFINITE by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. CHARLES BLISS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS QUI S'EXCUSE S'ACCUSE by MARIANNE MOORE HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 5 by EZRA POUND IMPRESSIONS OF FRANCOIS-MARIE AROUET (DE VOLTAIRE) by EZRA POUND |