Through the sunshine, and through the rain
   Of these changing days of mist and splendour,
I see the face of a year-old pain
   Looking at me with a smile half tender.

With a smile half tender, and yet all sad,
   Into each hour of the mild September
It comes, and finding my life grown glad
   Looks down in my eyes, and says 'Remember.'

Says 'Remember,' and points behind
   To days of sorrow, and tear-wet lashes;
When joy lay dead and hope was blind,
   And nothing was left but dust and ashes.

Dust and ashes and vain regret,
   Flames fanned out, and the embers falling.
But the sun of the saddest day must set,
   And hope wakes ever with Springtime's calling.

With Springtime's calling the pulses thrill;
   And the heart is tuned to a sweeter measure.
For never a green Spring crossed the hill
   That came not laden with some new pleasure.

Some new pleasure that brings content;
   And the heart looks up with a smile of gladness,
And wonders idly when sorrow went
   Out of the life that seemed all sadness.

That seemed all sadness, and yet grew bright
   With colours we thought could tinge it never.
Yet I think the pain though out of sight,
   Like the warp of the carpet, is there for ever.

There for ever, and by and by
   When the woof wears thin, or draws asunder,
We see the sombre threads that lie
   Intertwining and twisting under.

Twisting under and binding so
   The brighter threads that they may not sever.
Thus the pain of a year ago
   Must stay a part of my life for ever.

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

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