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.

This poem is in the public domain.