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Every Day Hath its Night
par
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Every day hath its night: Every night its morn: Thorough dark and bright Wingèd hours are borne; Seasons flower and fade; Golden calm and storm Mingle day by day There is no bright form Doth not cast a shade When we laugh, and our mirth Apes the happy vein We're so kin to earth Pleasaunce fathers pain Madness laugheth loud: Laughter bringeth tears: Eyes are worn away Till the end of fears Cometh in the shroud Ah! welaway! Ah! welaway! All is change, woe or weal; Joy is Sorrow's brother; Grief and gladness steal Symbols of each other; Larks in heaven's cope Sing: the culvers mourn All the livelong day Be not all forlorn; Let us weep, in hope Ah! welaway! Ah! welaway!
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