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!"