Hunting Joy

How sad a face this knowledge wears!

How strange is truth, which none can doubt!

How easy is an Eden made,

How hard to keep the serpent out!

How easy to create a Joy,

How hard to hold it safe and fast;

Since half the world would hunt it down,

As Fame, or Love, can prove at last.

I'll make my Joy a secret thing,

My face shall wear a mask of care;

And those who hunt a Joy to death,

Shall never know what a sport is there!