When I was born, then others laughed. I cried. But others wept, I did the laughing when I died. Birth is a joyous thing except to him who is born. And death is sad except for him who greets the morn. Ah, they would weep at birth and smile I know At death if love of life did not deceive them so. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROSE-BUD; TO A YOUNG LADY by WILLIAM BROOME A WOODLAND RHYME by ALEXANDER BROWN THE NEW MAGDALEN by RICHARD L. CARY JR. THE DESECRATION OF THE HAN TOMB by CHANG TSAI A SONNET OF SPOUSAL by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE THE EMPEROR AND THE RABBI by GEORGE CROLY IN THE BLACK COUNTRY by OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN |