This Life Is What We Make It

By Maria Frink

Let’s oftener talk of noble deeds,
And rarer of the bad ones,
And sing about our happy days,
And not about the sad ones.
We are not made to fret and sigh,
And when grief sleeps to wake it:
Bright happiness is standing by –
This life is what we make it.

Let’s find the sunny side of men,
Or be believers in it;
A light there is in every soul
That takes the pains to win it.
Oh! there’s a slumbering good in all;
And we perchance may wake it
Our hands contain the magic wand –
This life is what we make it.

Then here’s to those whose loving hearts
Shed light and joy about them!
Thanks be them for countless gems
We ne’er had known without them.
Oh! this should be a happy world
To all who may partake it:
The fault’s our own if it is not –
This life is what we make it.

This Poem Features In: