Solitude - by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
but has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
but shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
but they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
but alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
but no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure;
for a long and lordly train.
but one by one we must all file on,
through the narrow aisles of pain.

No comments:

Post a Comment