The Friday Poem: Of Happiness To Mortal Man, by Bacchylides

As another week concludes, we end with a random poem. Famous poets, obscure poets, amateur poets, whatever poets--just a poem to cap off the week.

Like this one:


Of Happiness To Mortal Man, by Bacchylides

Of happiness to mortal man
One is the road, and one the goal
To keep unburthen'd, all he can,
From loads of care the tranquil soul.
But whoso toileth night and day,
Nor day nor night permits sweet rest.
To steal him from himself away,
Or still the fever of his breast,
Nought will it profit, though he bear
On gloomy brow the stamp of care.