Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must burrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost in the air,
The echoes bound to 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.
For there is a 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.
Solitude // Ella Wheeler Wilcox