Leaden skies and a lonesome shadow
    Where summer has passed with her gorgeous train;
Snow on the mountain, and frost on the meadow--
    A white face pressed to the window pane;
A cold mist falling, a bleak wind a calling,
    And oh! but life seems vain.

Rain is better than golden weather,
    When the heart is dulled with a dumb despair.
Dead leaves lie where they walked together,
    The hammock is gone, and the rustic chair.
Let bleak snows cover the whole world over--
    It will never again seem fair.

Time laughs lightly at youth's sad 'Never,'
    Summer shall come again, smiling once more,
High o'er the cold world the sun shines for ever,
    Hearts that seemed dead are alive at the core.
Oh, but the pain of it--oh, but the gain of it,
    After the shadows pass o'er.

Yesterdays. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1916.

Back to Poem Index