Where one has got everything one may need,
And one need not labour to earn one’s bread,
Where one, to work, need not ever pay heed,
Where comforts are, for all, so freely spread;
That place may be the one someone may like
To live quite happily throughout his life.
But then in the mind such a thought does strike,
What worth is life without its stress and strife?’
It’s stress and want that make us work and get
Something that lessens our difficulties.
It’s only when we miss something and fret
That we put to use all our faculties.
The fruits of adversity are, yes, sweet.
Worthless is life that’s with comforts replete.
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