The whole world's a stage, and the life of man, less than a span; <br />In misconception, wretched, and from the womb, so on to the tomb; <br />Crust from the cradle brought up through years, with cares and fears; <br />Who then, will moral judgment trust, <br />With dreams of fortunes, and fates all written in dust. Still here in sorrow, yet, here we remain, oppressed, this life is best! <br />Courts are only superficial schools, for proven fools; <br />It's rural parts transform into a den, for savage men; <br />To that professed one whom of vice be free, <br />Remove your ties within that family tree. Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, or pains his head; <br />Those living single, profess they have been cursed, or do things worse; <br />Some have offspring, most of whom, they moan, or wish them gone; <br />What is it then, to have or have no wife, <br />Than once the single boredom, or twice the double strife. With true affections still at home to please, it's a disease; <br />To cross the sea to any foreign soil, perils and toil; <br />The noise of war frightens us when once it's ceased, we're worse at peace; <br />What then remains should all but make us cry, <br />Of not being born, but being born to die!!<br /><br />James Curtis Hall Jr.<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-come-to-go/
