Alike for all is the banquet spread,
And drunk and sober are warmed and fed.
When the feast is done and the night grows late,
And the second door of the tavern gapes wide,
The low and the mighty must bow the head
’Neath the archway of Life, to meet what ... outside?
Except thy road through affliction pass,
None may reach the halting-station of mirth;
God’s treaty: Am I not Lord of the earth?
Man sealed with a sigh: Ah yes, alas!