And said "We will here be happy,
And let the mad world go;
Its gold no longer tempts us,
Still less do its pomp and show;
"No more shall its cares annoy us,
And under these stately trees
With Nature and Art and Letters
Our souls shall take their ease."
But a brood of griefs pursued us,
Like evil birds of prey;
They lodged in the trees' tall branches,
They shadowed the cloudless day;
They flew to the darkened casement,
And beat on the wind-swept shade,
And oft in the sleepless midnight
We listened and were afraid;
And daily came the tidings
Of folly and crime and woe,
And one by one kept dying
The friends of long ago.
For the Past is ever one's master,
And Memory mocks at space,
And Trouble travels with us,
However swift our pace;
And envy is always envy,
Though called by a foreign name,
And perfidy, greed, and malice
Are everywhere the same.
I thought I had left behind me
That gloomy realm of care,
But really one never leaves it,
Its shadow is everywhere.
So I learned at last the lesson
That walls, and gates, and keys
Can never exclude life's sorrows;
They enter as they please.
And if we ever acquire
The perfect life we crave,
A subtle warning tells us
Its background is the grave.