The voices of the city—merged and swelled
Into a mighty dissonance of sound,
And from the medley rose these broken strains
In changing time and ever-changing keys.
I
Pleasure seekers, silken clad,
Led by cherub Day,
Ours the duty to be glad,
Ours the toil of play.
Sleep has bound the commonplace,
Pleasure rules the dawn.
Small hours set the merry pace
And we follow on.
We must use the joys of earth,
All its cares we’ll keep;
Night was made for youth and mirth,
Day was made for sleep.
Time has cut his beard, and lo!
He is but a boy,
Singing, on with him we go,
Ah! but life is joy.