Is like the dew that heaven sows;
It gently falls on hill and dale,
But how it cometh, no man knows.
The promise of a wicked heart
Is like unto the thunder peal,
Lit by the lightning's lurid flash
With ne'er a drop of rain to heal.
V
Happiness amidst Troubles. By Immanuel di Roma[[68-2]].
Whenever troublous hours I find