Life will lose not to dream. So dark, I say just say. Of the little morning rain, for tiles a pleasant day. Sometimes they are clouds of gloom, but these are transient all. Of the shower, where my throat is blown, a while a mint is formed. Of the shower, where my throat is blown, a while a mint is formed. Rapidly, lonely, low sunny hours flipped by, great fun, cheerly, enjoy them as a fan. What now death at time steps in and calls our best away, what now sorrow seems to win, or hope a heavy sway. We're to hope again elastic spring, unconquered, though she fell, still buoyant, her golden wings still strong to bear as well. Manfully, feel as if the day of child bear, for gloom is a pleasant day. We're to hope again elastic spring, unconquered, though she fell, still buoyant, her golden wings still strong to bear as well. Manfully, feel as if the day of child bear, for gloom is a pleasant day.