Extemporare Stanza


If I had the sleight of the Musical Glasses,
No more would I heed tho' the bottles were dry,
I would smile at the world's rough rub as it passes,
And meet my misfortunes unweigh'd with a sigh.
On mirth and good humour I'd place my reliance,
Put care and its thorns and its stings to defiance,
For music's the sweetest and pleasantest science,
For lifting the mind to contentment and glee.