All here exhilanttes and gladdens'
And not a thought intrudes that saddens;
A wild delirium of joy
Without control, without alloy.
Intoxicating and entrancing
Till heart and brain and nenres are dancing!

Ah! with a sudden shock of pain,
Tm thrown back on myself again—
Descending on the final rally.
The curtain falls upon—the Ballet!
And leaves me once again to feel
The disillusion of the real;
To pass into the gloomy night
With no deceptive splendours bright;
To meditate how transitory
Are all man's pleasures, all his glory;
How fast his happy moments fleet,
While misery moves with leaden feet.

What I moralise in style so trite
That Mawworms might your yerses cite!
Away with thoughts which, false or true,
Are profitless and far from new;
'Tis much to gain an hour's delight,
And wing with joy time's weary flight:
To analyse our joys away
Is but mere folly to display;
If all our joys are but illusions
Our sorrows also are delusions:
If nature cheats us into grief
Should we not thank her for relief?
If life is a dissolving view
Then death no more than life is true: