I saw the fragments of the cloud
Join with the nucleus form,
Cirrus to Nimbus quickly bowed—
Sure harbinger of storm.
These were but outward signs I saw,
Portending danger, strife, and fear,
Yet still I knew by Nature's law,
Beyond the clouds, 'twas clear.
In spite of cloud and storm and strife,
Of tempests wild, severe,
There's sunshine in our daily life,
If one true heart is near.
No battle vanquishes the true,
E'en thought of death is sweet
To him whose soul would e'er subdue
The scorpion-sting—deceit.
One trusting, true, and tender heart
Can cure a thousand ills,
Extract the poison from the dart
Of malice e'er it kills.
Oh, marshalled hosts of warring clouds!
Teach me this truth to know,
There's light beyond, though trouble shrouds
The valley here below.
THEIR LIFE IS WHAT THEY MAKE IT.
Let melancholy mortals grieve
And tell their tale of sorrow,
Their gloomy spirits to relieve,
But all returns to-morrow;
For all the while they court their grief,
Unwilling to forsake it,
And in the way they seek relief,
Their life is what they make it.
They brood o'er sorrow day by day,
With dreams they are affrighted,
But never strive to cast away
What most their spirits blighted;
And if fair fortune chance to smile
And give no cause for sorrow,
They're not content to rest awhile,
But off they go and borrow.