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'''With Mirth and Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come: A Sonnet'''

''By [[Elisabetta Lucia Portinari]]''


With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,

Life is too dear to waste in groaning cares,

To dwell on fear, afeared we do become,

And all’s vain if in gloom we are ensnared.

Come, let us fill our days with song and jest,

And let our mingled fancies dance in air,

Let us tell tales to rival all the rest,

And finish every night in grateful prayer.

Without a sense of humor we grow old,

And ever does our frown grow longer still,

A happy laugh does one more good than gold,

And shared we do invest it with goodwill.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,

No other trade pays half so great a sum.

[[Category: Poems and Songs]]