LAUGHTER wears a lilied gown-- She is but a simple thing; Laughter's eyes are water-brown, Ever glancing up and down Like a woodbird's restless wing. Laughter slender is and round-- She is but a simple thing; And her tresses fly unbound, And about her brow are found Buds that blossom by Mirth's spring. Laughter loves to praise and play-- She is but a simple thing-- With the children small who stray Under hedges, where the May Scents and blossoms richly fling. Laughter coyly peeps and flits-- She is but a simple thing-- Round the flower-clad door, where sits Maid who dimples as she knits, Dreaming in the rosy spring. Laughter hath light-tripping feet-- She is but a simple thing; Ye may often Laughter meet In the hayfield, gilt and sweet, Where the mowers jest and sing. Laughter shakes the bounteous leaves-- She is but a simple thing-- On the village ale-house eaves, While the angered swallow grieves And the rustic revellers sing. Laughter never comes a-nigh-- She's a wise though simple thing-- Where men lay them down to die; Nor will under stormy sky Laughter's airy music ring.