[Written for the Sentinel.]

You Cannot Hide from the Light

The world is full of sunshine,
Is full and running over;
It shines in all the cities,
It shines on fields of clover.
You may hide away in the darkest wood,
Away from the blue of the sky;
But you may be sure a sunbeam
Will find you by-and-by.

In life there are days of darkness,
When the sun seems to hide its face;
But if you creep out of the shadows
You will find the sun in its place.
Then why so much complaining?
And why do we mourn and sigh?
There never was yet a teardrop
The sunshine could not dry.

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May 21, 1904
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