Manes

There's a time to be jolly, a time to repent,
A season for folly, a season for Lent.
The first as the worst we too often regard,
The rest as the best, but our judgment is hard.
There are snows in December and roses in June,
There's darkness at midnight and sunshine at noon:
But were there no sorrow, no storm-cloud or rain,
Who 'd care for the morrow with beauty again?
The world is a picture both gloomy and bright,
And grief is the shadow, and pleasure the light,
And neither should smother the general tone;
For where were the other if either were gone?
The valley is lovely, the mountain is drear,
Its summit is hidden in mist all the year;
But gaze from the heaven, high over all weather,
And mountain and valley are lovely together.
I have learned to love Lucy, though faded she be,
If my next love be lovely, the better for me;
By the end of next summer, I'll give you my oath,
It was best, after all, to have flirted with both.
In London or Munich, Vienna, or Rome,
The sage is contented, and finds him a home,
He learns all that is bad, and does all that is good,
And will bite at the apple, by field or by flood.