I pray you, Sadness, leave me soon, <br />In sweet invention thou art poor! <br />Thy sister, Joy can make ten songs <br />While thou art making four. <br /> <br />One hour with thee is sweet enough; <br />But when we find the whole day gone <br />And no created thing is left -- <br />We mourn the evil done. <br /> <br />Thou art too slow to shape thy thoughts <br />In stone, on canvas, or in song; <br />But Joy, being full of active heat, <br />Must do some deed ere long. <br /> <br />Thy sighs are gentle, sweet thy tears; <br />But if thou canst not help a man <br />To prove in substance what he feels -- <br />Then givve me Joy, who can. <br /> <br />Therefore sweet Sadness, leave me soon, <br />Let thy bright sister, Joy, come more; <br />For she can make ten lovely songs <br />While thou art making four.<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sadness-and-joy/
