Where Is The Heart That Would Not Give Years Of Drowsy Days And Nights, One Little Hour, Like This, To Live-- Full, To The Brim, Of Life'S Delights? Look, Look Around, This Fairy Ground, With Love-Lights Glittering O'Er; While Cups That Shine With Freight Divine Go Coasting Round Its Shore. Hope Is The Dupe Of Future Hours, Memory Lives In Those Gone By; Neither Can See The Moment'S Flowers Springing Up Fresh Beneath The Eye, Wouldst Thou, Or Thou, Forego What's Now, For All That Hope May Say? No--Joy'S Reply, From Every Eye, Is, "Live We While We May,"