To speak a word to the oppressed,
To think of things that help mankind,
To scatter joy, unasked, unblessed—
For knowing minds divine the rest—
That is the happiness of life.
LXVIII.
Yes, life is vain, life is empty,
But why repeat a sad refrain,
This echo of Khayyam’s quatrains,
As long as each day has a morrow,