If he sunbeams will not start you to rejoicing, <br />If the laughter of your babies you can hear <br />Without little songs of gladness gayly voicing, <br />If their dancing doesn't drive away your tear; <br />If you don't find happiness where they are playing, <br />If they do not make your pathways bright and sunny, <br />Then gladness from your heart has gone a-straying <br />And you won't be any happier with money. <br /> <br />If the blue skies bending over you don't thrill you, <br />If the roses just a-bursting into bloom <br />With a sense of perfect pleasure do not fill you, <br />If the song birds do not chase away your gloom; <br />If you cannot find contentment in your cottage <br />Then your heart for joy has not become a chalice, <br />If you cannot, smiling, eat your simple pottage, <br />Then you'd not be any happier in a palace. <br /> <br />If a troop of healthy, laughing boys and lassies <br />Doesn't strike you as a reason to rejoice; <br />If the glories of the earth, when winter passes, <br />You behold and still retain a whining voice; <br />If it doesn't rouse your spirits to go fishing, <br />Then your heart is but a cupboard for despair, <br />And for money all in vain today you're wishing, <br />You'd make a most unhappy millionaire.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/happiness-410/
