These often dark and dreary roads I walk
In valleys dampened by the morning cold
Impart a lack of love, nor beg for talk,
And makes the kind but solemn soul feel old.
In such a sour mood I ambled out
To face the gaze of sunlight in the morn,
Thus filled with vitriolic doubt
I stumbled out in clouds of the forlorn;
But then I saw her smile and her eyes,
That attitude that knows no care, no fear,
A gift of boundless vigor from the skies,
A friend of mine whom I consider dear.
She spoke but once and turned my frightful frowns
Of deadened sorrow into golden crowns.