Classic Poem

May never less of Mirth than now
Sit on thy smooth unclouded brow!
May never Care those furrows trace
Which might her softer lines efface!
His richest robe may Hymen wear,
His brightest torch and gayest air!
And O! where'er he builds thy bower,
May joy attend the chosen hour!
May Mirth and Youth and Pleasure meet
To scatter roses at thy feet!
Like this, may every opening year
With some new blessing fraught appear;
With sprightly hopes and wishes glow,
And promise much, and more bestow! —
But what shall we forsaken do,
When Mirth and Pleasure fly with you?