Classic Poem

With gladness on each face,
And joy in every heart,
We meet to celebrate that place
From which we are apart.
No malice here abounds —
No hateful glance of scorn;
Each one in loudest strain resounds
The place where we were born.
Then let the night roll on, in mirth and harmony,
And sweet content alone be known to pass the goblet free.

Twice have we met ere this,
In unity and love,
And spent those nights in social bliss,
Our kindred hearts to prove.
We now meet here once more,
And will not pass till morn,
So let each echo from his core, —
The place where we were born.
Then let the night roll on, in mirth and harmony,
And sweet content alone be known to pass the goblet free.

See what a happy sight —
So many faces dear,
This soul-reviving, welcome night,
Comes only once a-year.
Should sadness then be near,
Or any carking thorn?
Come, join me in one social cheer, —
The place where we were born.
Then let the night roll on, in mirth and harmony,
And sweet content alone be known to pass the goblet free.