While others crowd the house of mirth,

and haunt the gaudy show,

Let such as would with Wisdom dwell,

frequent the house of woe.

Better to weep with those who weep,

and share th’ afflicted’s smart,

Than mix with fools in giddy joys

that cheat and wound the heart.

When virtuous sorrow clouds the face,

and tears bedim the eye,

The soul is led to solemn thought,

and wafted to the Sky.

The wise in heart revisit oft

grief’s dark sequestered cell;

The thoughtless still with levity

and mirth delight to dwell.

The noisy laughter of the fool

is like the crackling sound

Of blazing thorns, which quickly fall

in ashes to The ground.