Good things seldom come from darkened lands
Or works of beauty from such cracked and withered hands
Or happy thoughts from dull and lonesome shores-
To those who find no whimsy in these words, hark!
Forget mayhaps, whatnots, and what has come before
Good can come from darkness, beauty from the aged and weak
Happiness is a stubborn thing, defying isolation and
Remember always this, that though despair makes winter bleak
A single light of love will warm the cockles of the heart once more