The Truth

Oh! why is the world as it is, we ask, With tears in our voice, and a sigh: For nothing remains but an unfinished task, While beauty is only hypocrisy's mask, The end of it all—but to die.

Believe me, the world is a place full of joy, And happiness stretches afar: Alas! that the workings of man should destroy The meaning of God, with the deeds they employ, Oh! why are we all as we are?