He is the happy wanderer, who goes,
Singing upon the way, with eyes awake
To every scene, with ears alert to take
The sweetness of all sounds; who loves and knows
The secrets of the highway, and the rose
Holds fairer for the wounds that briars make.
The Happy Wanderer (1895).
We shall lodge at the sign of the Grave, you say;
Well, the road is a long one we trudge, my friend,
So why should we grieve at the break of the day?
Let us sing, let us drink, let us love, let us play,--
We can keep our sights for the journey's end.
It may be we shall know in the hereafter
Why we, begetting hopes, give birth to fears,
And why the world's too beautiful for laughter,
Too gross for tears.