To each his suff'rings; all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan,- The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'T is folly to be wise.

Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.

Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.

The still small voice of gratitude.

Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come nor care beyond today.

To each his suff'rings; all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan,- The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'T is folly to be wise.