Classic Poem

Why have crowds as magnets drawn
Men to meet, since nature's dawn?
Why did loneliness embrace-
Adam, father of the race?

Why did twelve disciples dwell
All together? Who can tell?
Why, at intervals, do we
Gather round the festal tree?

Annual picnics, how can they
Cure the heartache? Tell me, pray;
Grand receptions, sweeter far,
Tell me what their missions are.

Seeking pleasure, killing pain,
Making mirth and gladness reign,
Anguish swoons and sadness quakes
At the sound that laughter makes.

Jollity, with happy mien
Chases trouble from the scene;
Joy, increasing as it flows,
Drowns a multitude of woes.

Thoughts offensive fear and fly,
When good-will is passing by;
Sunlight dancing with delight,
Cares will vanish at the sight.

Love — its gentle strokes are such,
Grief is crippled by the touch.
Sorrows deep we bury here,
In a casket of good cheer.

Peace enthroned, with regal sway,
Drives the dullness far away;
Round the festal board of life,
Naught should come that's born of strife.

Why do people love to meet
And enjoy themselves complete?
'Tis the ruling hand of fate,
That is why they congregate.