OH cut out the vain repining, cease thinking of dole and doom! Come out
where the sun is shining, come out of the cave of gloom! Come out of
your hole and borrow a package of joy from me, and say to your secret
sorrow, “I’ve no longer use for thee!” For troubles, which are deluding,
are timorous beasts, I say; they stick to the gent who’s brooding, and
flee from the gent who’s gay. The gateways of Eldorados are open, all
o’er the earth; come out of the House of Shadows, and dwell in the House
of Mirth. From Boston to far Bobcaygeon the banners of gladness float;
oh, grief is a rank contagion, and mirth is the antidote. And most of
our woes would perish, or leave us, on sable wings, if only we didn’t
cherish and coddle the blame fool things. Long since would your woes
have scampered away to their native fogs, but they have been fed and
pampered like poodles or hairless dogs. And all of these facts should
teach you it’s wise to be bright and gay; come out where the breeze can
reach you, and blow all your grief away.
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