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 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