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 nectar’d 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.
by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX (1855-1919)
Public Domain Poetry
Hat tip to Tati & Tony over at Unbolt.me.
Fantastic poem! I did a recitation on this one a few months ago. 😊
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Very cool, Michele!
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Thank you. I enjoyed the experience! A fantastic poem to commit to memory. ✨
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So glad you enjoyed this gem too! It really is so good! 😄
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Agreed! I’m so glad you posted it.
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