Joy Cometh in the Morning
I HAD hoped that the morning sun would rise
To scatter the night of weeping,
And I rose to watch the dawning skies
While the world lay round me sleeping.
But alas for my hope; from his cloudy bed
He rose with a sullen glare,
And over the waiting earth he shed
A cold light everywhere.
In pitiless gusts came the driving rain
From the leaden-coloured skies;
Thro' the blinding mist on the window pane
I saw the sad sun rise.
And I said to my heart as I turned away,
"Tho' tears have endured for a night,
Yet be still, my heart, there comes to-day
No joy with the morning light!"
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