Life is made up of vanities — so small,
So mean, the common history of the day, —
That mockery seems the sole philosophy.
Then some stern truth starts up — cold, sudden, strange;
And we are taught what life is by despair: —
The toys, the trifles, and the petty cares,
Melt into nothingness — we know their worth:
The heart avenges every careless thought,
And makes us feel that fate is terrible.