Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how

And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days

Even his griefs are a joy, long after, to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured

What is Friendship when complete?
'Tis to share all joy and grief;
'Tis to lend all due relief
From the tongue, the heart, the hand;
'Tis to mortgage house and land;
For a friend be sold a slave;
'Tis to die upon a grave,
If a friend therein do lie.

Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy must have somebody to divide it with.