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 long and lordly train,                                    

But one by one we must all file on                            

Through the narrow aisles of pain.