Weary of Care, I went in search of Joy,
And drank my greedy fill of Pleasure's Wine,
Until, soul-sick, I knew the Grim Decoy;
The Bitter Dregs of Discontent were mine.
'Twas then a ragged urchin by the way
Held out his little hand--and I confess
That in the Joy I gave to him that day
I found the Dregless Wine of Happiness!