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?

More verses by Radclyffe Hall