Well, well, the world must turn upon its axis, And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails, And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, And as the veering winds shift, shift our sails.

Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger; opens a new world When this, the present, palls.

My hair is grey, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears.

And life 's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

Brisk Confidence still best with woman copes: Pique her and soothe in turn-soon Passion crowns thy hopes.

One hates an author that's all author.

So do the dark in soul expire, Or live like scorpion girt by fire; So writhes the mind remorse hath riven, Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven, Darkness above, despair beneath, Around it flame, within it death.