Laugh and the world laughs with you.
Weep and you'll weep alone.
For the sad old Earth must borrow its mirth But has troubles of its own.
Sing and the hills answer.
Sigh it's lost in the air.
The echos bound to a joyful sound
But shrink to a voicing care.
Rejoice and people will seek you.
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want the full measure
of your pleasure
But reject your woe.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone, you must drink life's gaul.
Feast and your halls are crowded.
Fast and the world goes by.
Succeed and give
It helps you live.
And no one can help you die.
There's room in the halls of heaven
for a large and lordly train.
But one by one we must all file on
Through those narrow aisles of pain.
-E.W. WILCOX
