All men have troubles of their own,
And burdens great to bear each day,
So keep your tales of woe, and frown
At all the ills that come your way:
You need not harbor sorry pain,
And make the world a living hell;
For there is naught in this to gain;
The wisdom of the age will tell.
The other fellow does not care
A bit, what ails and worries you;
In life he has to pay his fare
In living right as you should do:
He bears his burdens like a man,
And smiles with every wind;
There is a reason why he can
Thus master right his soul and mind.
To conscience go in quiet mood.
And find yourself each morn anew;
Feed thou upon the psychic food
That makes the gods in mortal hue:
This is the way that men are great-
All those who smile with Nature's laws-
So then, why brood and curse your fate?
Brace up and strike against your flaws!