Page:Poems Cook.djvu/290

Though Misfortune is nigh, let the kind words float by,
 And something of Hope will spring up;
That the hand of the Future may drain off the gall,
 And some nectar-drops yet fill our cup.
If we bask in content while another short year
 Is recorded with eloquent bliss;
How we prize the fond wishes, all gladly sincere,
 That come round with the soul-pledging kiss.
Oh! our place in the world will be chilly and drear,
 When our natal-tide passes away
Without one to remember, or breathe in our ear,
 "Many happy returns of the day!"

There are moments when Memory cruelly brings
 The grim spectres of Joy back again;
When Sorrow malignantly sharpens her stings,
 Till we quiver and bleed with the pain.
And the spirit will groan in such moments as this,
 When our loudly-hail'd birthday shall fall;
But among the warm greetings there's one that we miss,
 And that one was the dearest of all.
What would we not give if the grave could restore
 The dear form it hath wrested away;
If the voice of that lost one could wish us once more,
 "Many happy returns of the day"?

There are moments when Truth and Devotion increase,
 Till they burn in the crucible breast
With an increase and might that we knew not the light
 Of our smouldering feeling possess'd;
And that flame will be vividly flashing out thus,
 When we welcome returns of the time,
That gave some loved beings to life and to us;
 —The sweet bells in Mortality's chime.
Then a garland—a bumper, a dance, and a feast,
 Let the natal-tide come when it may;
Be it autumn or spring, a gay chorus we'll sing
 "Many happy returns of the day!"

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