Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It rains, and the
wind is never weary;
The vine still clings
to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the
dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark
and dreary.
It rains, and the
wind is never weary;
My thoughts still
cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of
youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark
and dreary.
Behind the clouds is
the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the
common fate of all,
Into each life some
rain must fall,
Some days must be
dark and dreary.
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