Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure
Of all your pleasure,
But they do not want your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline
Your nectared 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 it cannot 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
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
THE GOSSIPS
A rose in my garden, the sweetest and fairest,
Was hanging her head through the long golden hours;
And early one morning I saw her tears falling,
And heard a low gossiping talk in the bowers.
The yellow Nasturtium, a spinster all faded,
Was telling a Lily what ailed the poor Rose:
“That wild roving Bee who was hanging about her,
Has jilted her squarely, as every one knows.
“I knew when he came, with his singing and sighing,
His airs and his speeches so fine and so sweet,
Just how it would end; but no one would believe me,
For all were quite ready to fall at his feet.”
“Indeed, you are wrong,” said the Lily-belle proudly,
“I cared nothing for him; he called on me once,
And would have come often, no doubt, if I’d asked him,
But though he was handsome, I thought him a dunce.”
“Now, now, that’s not true,” cried the tall Oleander.
“He has travelled and seen every flower that grows;
And one who has supped in the garden of princes,
We all might have known would not we with the Rose.”
“But wasn’t she proud when he showed her attention?
And she let him caress her,” said sly Mignonette;
“And I used to see it and blush for her folly.
The silly thing thinks he will come to her yet.”
“I thought he was splendid,” said pretty pert Larkspur,
“So dark, and so grand with that gay cloak of gold;
But he tried once to kiss me, the impudent fellow!
And I got offended; I thought him too bold.”
“Oh, fie!” laughed the Almond, “that does for a story.
Though I hang down my head, yet I see all that goes;
And I saw you reach out trying hard to detain him,
But he just tapped your cheek and flew by to the Rose.
“He cared nothing for her; he only was flirting
To while away time, as I very well knew;
So I turned a cold shoulder on all his advances,
Because I was certain his heart was untrue.”
“The Rose is served right for her folly in trusting
An oily-tongued stranger,” quoth proud Columbine.
“I knew what he was, and thought once I would warn her,
But of course the affair was no business of mine.”