Each day marks an earthly rotation full;
The ascending sun warms, and setting cools.
This day is pinnacle, hence above all;
Our star’s broadening smile turns to you.
Life beacons thy pleasure for things as such:
The love-sick bird and sweet whispering gale.
To exist is chance—yearns cherishing much;
For it is rare a human knows its luck.
Seize this day with vigour—it is quite yours,
(‘Though the seizing of days ought be common).
Search for the willing, you’ll find them in scores—
The persons willing: rejoice by side you.
Happy Birthday is all I wish to add,
Along with the regards of a young lad!