any dream I have is weird - I don't have many - and I remember few of those - although I can still remember parts of a "bad" dream I had as a kid.
"Solitude," by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850 - 1919). The entire text of the poem is as follows.
"Laugh, and the world laughs with you: Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth Must borrow its mirth, It 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 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."
