On Dit

On Dit

Cold is the wind - the flowers below,Fearful of winter's hand, lie curled;But Spring will come again you know,And glorify the world.

Dark is the night - no stars or moon;But at its blackest, night is done,All after hastens to the noon,The triumph of the sun.

And life is sad, and love is brief.Be patient ; there will be, they say,New life, divine beyond belief,Somehow, somewhere, some day.