I have known sorrow; I have known laughter, Echoing up to the highest rafter; I have known sweet, and the bitter after. I have known falsehood's thrusting dagger; The hurt of defeat and the boaster's swagger; I have known hunger's uncertain stagger. But I have listened, expectant still, To hear the spring wind, sweet and shrill, Singing over the woodland hill. And I have seen a white filagree Of mist, on the pale anemone, And a crescent moon in the apple tree. And I have walked a fragrant lane Through falling plum bloom in the rain And known a beauty that was pain. I have learned this: That sorrow and weeping Scarcely abide the night's deep sleeping, But the lovely things are for our keeping! |