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214 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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GEORGE OGLE
(1742-1814)
BANISH SORROW
B
ANISH sorrow, griefs a folly, Thought, unbend thy wrinkled brow; Hence dull care and melancholy, Mirth and wine invite us now. Bacchus empties all his treasure;
Comus gives us mirth and song; Follow, follow, follow, follow, Follow, follow pleasure — Let us join the jovial throng.
Youth soon flies, 'tis but a season ;
Time is ever on the wing ; Let's the present moment seize on,
Who knows what the next may bring? All our days by mirth we measure;
Other wisdom we despise; Follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow pleasure —
To be happy's to be wise.
Why should therefore care perplex us?
Why should we not merry be? While we're here, there's nought to vex us,
Drinking sets from cares all free; |
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