Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep, and you weep alone: For this stolid old earth Has need of your mirth, It has troubles enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will echo it: Sigh, and it's lost on the air; For they want full measure Of all your pleasure, But nobody wants your care. Feast, and your halls are crowded, Fast, and they'll pass you by; Succeed and give, And they'll let you live, But fail - and they'll let you die. |
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