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 BIRDS OF VIETNAM by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOST ILLUSIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RECOMPENSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TAPS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE CROSS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: LOVERIDGE CHASE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA |