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AUGH, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth Must borrow its mirth, It 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 want 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 it cannot 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.


How Salvator Won, and Other Recitations

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