“ A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times. ”
Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath And after many a summer dieth the swan.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson
For words like Nature half reveal And half conceal the Soul within.
Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, 'It will be happier.'
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
