Classic Poem

The world is so full of a number of things
Like music and pictures and statues and plays,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

We've winters and summers and autumns and springs,
We've Aprils and Augusts, Octobers and Mays —
The world is so full of a number of things

Though minor the key of my lyrical strings,
I change it to major when paeaning praise:
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

Each morning a myriad wonderments brings,
Each evening a myriad marvels conveys,
The world is so full of a number of things.

With pansies and roses and pendants and rings,
With purples and yellows and scarlets and grays,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

So pardon a bard if he carelessly sings
A solo indorsing these Beautiful Days —
The world is so full of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.