Your path is thorny and rough and crude,
And mine is broad and plain;
My road is paved with flowers and gems,
And yours with tears and pain.
The sky above me is always blue:
No want, no toil, I know;
The sky above you is always dark;
Your lot is a lot of woe.
My path, you see, is a broad, fair path,
And my gate is high and wide—