Friends, I am only merry for an hour or two Upon a birthday: if this life of ours Be a good glad thing, why should we make us merry Because a year of it is gone? but Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come Whispering 'It will be happier;' and old faces Press round us, and warm hands close with warm hands, And thro' the blood the wine leaps to the brain Like April sap to the topmost tree, that shoots New buds to heaven, whereon the throstle rock'd Sings a new song to the new year - and you, Strike up a song, my friends, and then to bed.

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.

The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions.

Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark.

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 si…

The happiest day - the happiest hour My sear'd and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown.

dance mehitabel dance caper and shake a leg what little blood is left will fizz like wine in a keg