Every soul that touches yours -
Be it the slightest contact -
Get there from some good;
Some little grace; one kindly thought;
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train!
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
We all have moments in life
When we are faced with strife
The difference you will find
Is what you're thinking in your mind.
If there is a future there is time for mending-
Time to see your troubles coming to an ending.
Life is never hopeless however great your sorrow-
Purple veins strain against the skin.
Pale, translucent, paper thin.
Skinny fingers clawed in monstrous shapes,
Brown spots from years that she can't erase.
The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That's sweetly played in tune.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;