laugh, and the world laughs with you;
weep, and you weep alone.
for the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
but has trouble enough of its own.
sing, and the hills will answer;
sigh, it is lost on the air.
the echoes bound to a joyful sound,
but shrink from voicing care.
rejoice, and men will seek you;
grieve, and they turn and go.
they want full measure of all your pleasure,
but they do not need 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 no man can help you die.
there is room in the halls of pleasure
but one by one we must all file on
through the narrow aisles of pain.
the world's askew, and
life is a rack;
for i loved two, and
both loved me back.
do not go gentle into that good night
old age should burn and rave at close of day;
rage, rage against the dying of the light.
though wise men at their end know dark is right
because their words had forked no lightning they
do not go gentle into that good night.
good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
rage, rage against the dying of the light.
wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
do not go gentle into that good night.
grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
rage, rage against the dying of the light.
and you, my father, there on the sad height
curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, i pray.
do not go gentle into that good night.
rage, rage against the dying of the light.
how much is much,
how deep is deep,
is this game we play called love?
a pint of love,
a gallon?
what matters the quantity?
his cup is big,
but just a cup is what he'll give
mine is small,
but i would give it, cup and all.
how much is much,
how deep is deep,
is this game we play called love?
it is perhaps because
one way or the other
we keep this distance
closeness will tug us apart
in many directions
in absolute din
how we love the same
trivial pursuits and
insignificant gewgaws
spoken or inert
claw at the same straws
pore over the same jigsaws
trying to make heads or tails
you take the edges
i take the center
keeping fancy guard
loving beyond what is there
you sling at stars
i bedeck the weeds
straining in song or
profanities towards some
fabled meeting apart
from what dreams read
and suns dismantle
we have been all the hapless
lovers in this wayward world
in almost all kinds of ways
except we never really meet
but for this kind of burning