THE hours of sun and shine were good, In that they shewed us how to mate, They fanned the flame and matched the mood, They sang us songs of sap renewed, And set the pulsing blood in spate. The hours of storm and stress were hard, In that they made us kin of care, And much was lost and more was marred When we grew out-cast, evil-starred, And cousins-germane to despair. But yet the hours of storm and stress, Beyond the hours of sun and shine, Are good to think upon and bless, In that their very bitterness Made me more yours, and you more mine. |