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The Bitter and the Sweet

From the Rock Island Argus, August 5, 1914. By Henry Howland.

The skies cannot always be clear, my dear;
The merriest eye may still have its tear;
The sorrow that lurks in your bosom today,
Like the clouds, when you’ve wept, will go floating away,
And the skies will be blue that are sullen and gray,
        My dear.

If it’s going to rain, my dear, it will rain;
The day will not brighten because you complain;
There are sorrows that every good woman must bear,
There are griefs of which every good man has a share;
It is only the fool who has never a care,
        My dear.

The skies cannot always be clear, my dear;
Sweets wouldn’t be sweet were no bitterness here;
There could never be joy if there never was sorrow,
The sob of today may be laughter tomorrow;
There is gladness as well as black trouble to borrow,
        My dear.

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