Classic Poem

There are roses for each, in the thorn-crown of life,
If only we troubled to find them;
There are shadows and shades on the breast of the lake,
But the ripples are dimpling behind them.

There are sighs for the hearts that are lightest to-day,
There are smiles for the eyes that are weeping;
There's a promise of fruit in the tree's tender hands,
Though the snow of her blossom is sleeping.

There is sunshine and love for the soul that will trust,
There are tears, briny tears, for the doubter;
Shall the moon, when she turns her white face from our gaze,
Weep and wonder what we do without her?

There are woes and regrets in each life's crucifix,
But a sweet Christ looks out on each sorrow,
And the clouds that pour sleet on the bowed head to-day,
May weave it a nimbus to-morrow.