God Bless You, Dear, Today!

If there be graveyards in the heart   From which no roses spring, A place of wrecks and old gray tombs   From which no birds take wing, Where linger buried hopes and dreams   Like ghosts among the graves, Why, buried hopes are dismal things,   And lonely ghosts are knaves! If there come dreary winter days,   When summer roses fall And lie, forgot, in withered drifts   Along the garden wall; If all the wreaths a lover weaves   Turn thorns upon the brow,— Then out upon the silly fool   Who makes not merry now! For is we cannot keep the past,   Why care for what ’s to come? The instant’s prick is all that stings,   And then the place is numb. If life’s a lie and Love’s a cheat,   As I have heard men say, Then here ’s a health to fond deceit—   God bless you, dear, to-day!