This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes, <br />That chase one another like waves of the deep -- <br />Each brightly or darkly, as onward it flows, <br />Reflecting our eyes, as they sparkle or weep. <br />So closely our whims on our miseries tread, <br />That the laugh is awaked ere the tear can be dried; <br />And, as fast as the rain-drop of Pity is shed, <br />The goose-plumage of Folly can turn it aside. <br />But pledge me the cup -- if existence would cloy, <br />With hearts ever happy and heads ever wise, <br />Be ours the light Sorrow, half-sister to Joy, <br />And the light brilliant Folly that flashes and dies. <br /> <br />When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, <br />Through fields full of light, and with heart full of play, <br />Light rambled the boy, over meadow and mount, <br />And neglected his task for the flowers on the way. <br />Thus many, like me, who in youth should have tasted <br />The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine, <br />Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted, <br />And left their light urns all as empty as mine. <br />But pledge me the goblet; -- while idleness weaves <br />These flowerets together, should Wisdom but see <br />One bright drop or two that has fall'n on the leaves <br />From her fountain divine, 'tis sufficient for me.<br /><br />Thomas Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-life-is-all-chequer-d-with-pleasures-and-wo/
