Did you but know how sweet is grief,
The flowing tears that yield relief;
Sweet sorrow’s sigh, heart-heaving moan,
Your life wou’d be one grunt and groan.
For life’s like bubbles made by rain,
No sooner come, but gone again;
So we must go, as ’tis our doom,
To make for other bubbles room.
Then ne’er rejoice, or e’er look glad,
Keep cloudy front, and visage sad;