The Light of Other Days

The light of other days is faded,

And all its glories past.

For grief with heavy wing had shaded

The hopes too bright to last;

The world with morning's mantle clouded,

Shines forth with purer rays!

The heart ne'er feels, in sorrow shrouded,

The light of other days.

The leaf which Autumn tempests wither,

The birds which then take wing,

When Winter's winds are past, come hither

To welcome back the Spring;

The very ivy on the ruin

In gloom-full life displays;

The heart alone sees no renewing,

The light of other days.