Well, Say You The World Is A Chamber Of Sleep, And Life But A Sleeping And Dreaming? Then I Too Would Dream: And Would Joyously Reap The Blooms Of Harmonious Seeming; The Dream-Flow'Rs Of Hope And Of Freedom, Perchance, The Rich Are So Merrily Reaping;-- In Love'S Eyes I'd Fancy The Joy Of Romance; No More Would I Dream Love Is Weeping. Or Say You The World Is A Banquet, A Ball, Where Everyone Goes Who Is Able? I Too Wish To Sit Like A Lord In The Hall With Savory Share At The Table. I Too Can Enjoy What Is Wholesome And Good, A Morsel Both Dainty And Healthy; I Have In My Body The Same Sort Of Blood That Flows In The Veins Of The Wealthy. A Garden You Say Is The World, Where Abound The Sweetest And Loveliest Roses? Then Would I, No Leave Asking, Saunter Around And Gather Me Handfuls Of Posies. Of Thorns I Am Sure I Would Make Me No Wreath; (Of Flowers I Am Very Much Fonder). And With My Beloved The Bowers Beneath I'd Wander, And Wander, And Wander. But Ah! If The World Is A Battlefield Wild, Where Struggle The Weak With The Stronger, Then Heed I No Storm And No Wife And No Child!-- I Stand In Abeyance No Longer;-- Rush Into The Fire Of The Battle Nor Yield, And Fight For My Perishing Brother; Well, If I Am Struck--I Can Die On The Field; Die Gladly As Well As Another....