What’s wonderful about a weepy night
Is that it brings perspective to delight,
And wavers hopeful thoughts so in the morrow,
I will be grateful for a lack of fright.

If when the sun has risen I’ve still sorrow,
I’m sure that I’ll at least be quick to borrow
Words which I do bury—when it’s night—
Of all my hope I swore, in past, was thorough.