Spirit of Joy

Spirit of Joy

Spirit of joy! thy altar lies

In youthful hearts, that hope like mine.

And 'tis the light of laughing eyes

That leads us to thy fairy shrine.

There if we find the sigh, the tear,

They are not those to sorrow known,

But breathe so soft, and drops so clear,

That bliss may claim them for her own.

Then give me, give me, while I weep,

The sanguine hope that brightens woe.

And teaches even our tears to keep

The tinge of rapture while they flow.

The child who sees the dew of night

Upon the spangled hedge at morn,

Attempts to catch the drops of light,

But wounds his finger with the thorn.

Thus oft the brightest joys we seek

Dissolve, when touched, and turn to pain;

The flush they kindle leaves the cheek,

The tears they waken long remain.

But give me, give me, while I weep,

The sanguine hope that brightens woe,

And teaches even our tears to keep

The tinge of rapture while they flow.

Thomas Moore

1:11, p. 1

10.1.1859