The Gift To Sing

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path, And blackening clouds about me cling; But, oh, I have a magic way To turn the gloom to cheerful day-- I softly sing.

And if the way grows darker still, Shadowed by Sorrow's somber wing, With glad defiance in my throat, I pierce the darkness with a note, And sing, and sing.

I brood not over the broken past, Nor dread whatever time may bring; No nights are dark, no days are long, While in my heart there swells a song, And I can sing.