The Card-House

Gentle neighbours, wherefore laugh,
When the wind, like idle chaff,
Blows away my careful pile?—
Is it worth your smile?

You build castles in the air;
Morning sees them tall and fair;
But when shuts the eye of day,
Tell me, where are they?

Read ye not a lesson here,
Ye who Mammon's temples rear?
Know ye not, your glories must
Crumble soon to dust?

Why, then, gentle neighbours, laugh,
When the wind, like idle chaff,
Blows away my careful pile?—
What build ye the while?
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