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?