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, the 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 help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long, lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

By
Ella Wheeler Wilcox