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Poem by Thomas Hood
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The world is with me, and its many cares, Its woes--its wants--the anxious hopes and fears That wait on all terrestrial affairs-- The shades of former and of future years-- Forboding fancies and prophetic tears, Quelling a spirit that was once elate. Heavens! what a wilderness the world appears, Where youth, and mirth, and health are out of date; But no--a laugh of innocence and joy Resounds, like music of the fairy race, And, gladly turning from the world's annoy, I gaze upon a little radiant face, And bless, internally, the merry boy Who "makes a son-shine in a shady place."
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