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But let us be merry—though Summer is gone,
And Autumn away is gliding;
And hoary Winter, now hurrying on,
With storms and snows, will be here anon,
'Mid winds all loudly chiding.
Still, ever be merry, as I am now,
Thorough the wintry weather;
For ye have the bright hearth's cheering glow,
While for me the ruddy hedge-berries grow,
So let us be gay together!
Oh! ever be merry!—what do ye gain
By murmuring, fretting, sighing?—
Why ever strive to discover pain?
Why court the things of which ye complain?
Why on life's dark side be prying?
Cease—cease, and be merry;—Oh come to me,
E'en a bird shall teach ye reason—
Shall show ye how gaily and happily
Poor Robin can sing in a leafless tree,
And love e'en the dreariest season.
Then ever be merry—a lesson take now,
That well ye may aye remember;
A contented heart and a cloudless brow
Can light life's shadowy path with a glow,
Like sunshine in dim November.
