The Way Of The World Poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper

Oh! but it's war to the knife, man!
Selfish and desperate strife, man!
Nothing will serve
But resolute nerve
To battle the battle of life, man!

What do they care for your cares, man?
What are your troubles to theirs, man?
Nobody heeds
How the heart bleeds,
Nor how a poor fellow fares, man.

Each for himself is the thought, man;
All the world else is as nought, man:
Each has his fill
Of fighting up-hill,
And fiercely the battle is fought, man!

Yes,-- you may do good or ill, man;
Battle as well as you will, man,
Nobody cares,--
Nobody's pray'rs
Help in this battle up-hill, man!

Wrapt in a mantle of pride, man,
Standing aloof and aside, man,
Each one alone
Hunts for his own,
Cold as the world and as wide, man!

Ay, it is bitter to think, man,
That you may swim or may sink, man,
With the world's glance
Coldly askance
Watching you over the brink, man!

Everything's thrown on the shelf, man,
Other than pleasure or pelf, man!
Be what you may,
You're clean flung away
If
you
cannot serve the world's
self
, man!