John Kendrick Bangs, in the _Atlantic Monthly_, writes an ideal
note:
To-day, whatever may annoy
The word for me is joy, just simple joy;
The joy of life;
The joy of children and of wife;
The joy of bright blue skies;
The joy of rain; the glad surprize
Of twinkling stars that shine at night;
The joy of wingéd things upon their flight;
The joy of noon-day, and the tried
True joyousness of eventide;
The joy of labor, and of mirth;
The joy of air, and sea, and earth--
The countless joys that ever flow from Him
Whose vast beneficence doth dim
The lustrous light of day,
And lavish gifts divine upon our way.
Whate’er there be of sorrow
I’ll put off till to-morrow,
And when to-morrow comes, why then
’Twill be to-day and joy again! (Text.)
(1692)
* * * * *
So take joy home,
And make a place in thy great heart for her,
And give her time to grow, and cherish her;
Then will she come, and oft will sing to thee,
When thou art working in the furrows; aye,
Or weeding in the sacred hours of dawn.
It is a comely fashion to be glad--
Joy is the grace we say to God. (Text.)
--JEAN INGELOW.
(1693)