SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL
Reading edition
"A watched pot never boils." Though the pot be the pot of happiness, the proverb still holds true.
Sit down, sad soul, and count The moments flying: Come,—tell the sweet amount That's lost by sighing! How many smiles—a score? Then laugh, and count no more; For day is dying.
Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, And no more measure The flight of Time, nor weep The loss of leisure; But here, by this lone stream, Lie down with us and dream Of starry treasure.
We dream: do thou the same: We love—forever; We laugh; yet few we shame, The gentle, never. Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; Then—hope and happy skies Are thine forever!
Bryan Waller Procter.