White Solitude
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 are 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 large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
©Shri
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