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, 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 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 large and lordly train,              But one by one we must all file on          Through the narrow aisles of pain.