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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