Distance Run

I tire my day with laughter, not with tears,
And wear it out with smiles and happiness.
So do I hang upon the weary years
With joy impossible to not express.
The happy minutes lead to grinning hours,
While sixty gleeful seconds make up each;
And if it were within my mortal powers,
That is the dictate I would seek to teach:
That if you look, or wish, to thrill with joy
And let it wash upon you every day,
You must let every moment almost cloy
With positive good feeling, blithe and gay.
So do I, yet it does not cloy at all;
I do not, in such happiness, miss gall.