Все мысли по углам –

[Ella Wheeler Wilcox.]


Laugh, and the world laughs with you,

Weep, and you weep alone ;

For the brave old earth must borrow its mirth,

It has troubles enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer,

Sigh ! it is lost on the air ;

The echoes rebound 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 don’t want your woe.

Be glad and your friends are many,

Be sad and you lose them all ;

There are none to decline your nectar’d 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

Thro’ the narrow aisles of pain.