Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy; <br />Sing as a happy bird will sing <br />Beneath a rainbow's lovely arch <br />In the spring. <br /> <br />Think not of death in thy young days; <br />Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear? <br />And fear him not when thou art old, <br />And he is near. <br /> <br />Strive not for gold, for greedy fools <br />Measure themselves by poor men never; <br />Their standard still being richer men, <br />Makes them poor ever. <br /> <br />Train up thy mind to feel content, <br />What matters then how low thy store? <br />What we enjoy, and not possess, <br />Makes rich or poor. <br /> <br />Filled with sweet thought, then happy I <br />Take not my state from other's eyes; <br />What's in my mind -- not on my flesh <br />Or theirs -- I prize. <br /> <br />Sing, happy soul, thy songs of joy; <br />Such as a Brook sings in the wood, <br />That all night has been strengthened by <br />Heaven's purer flood.<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/songs-of-joy/
