The Two Ifs

If joy be thine, then guard the boon
From the gazing sun and the prying moon!
In a world that is lean with dearth of bliss,
'Twere cruel to flaunt a gift like this.

And if thine be woe, then do thy best
To immure it deep in thy cloistering breast!
'Twere callous to blazon abroad thy pain,
And harrow some happier heart in vain.
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