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by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

   Smile a little, smile a little,
      As you go along,
   Not alone when life is pleasant,
      But when things go wrong.
   Care delights to see you frowning,
      Loves to hear you sigh;
   Turn a smiling face upon her—
      Quick the dame will fly.

   Smile a little, smile a little,
      All along the road;
   Every life must have its burden,
      Every heart its load.
   Why sit down in gloom and darkness
      With your grief to sup?
   As you drink Fate’s bitter tonic,
      Smile across the cup.

   Smile upon the troubled pilgrims
      Whom you pass and meet;
   Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms
      Oft for weary feet.
   Do not make the way seem harder
      By a sullen face;
   Smile a little, smile a little,
      Brighten up the place.

   Smile upon your undone labour;
      Not for one who grieves
   O’er his task waits wealth or glory;
      He who smiles achieves.
   Though you meet with loss and sorrow
      In the passing years,
   Smile a little, smile a little,
      Even through your tears.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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