| THE DAY is cold, and dark, and dreary; |
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It rains, and the wind is never weary;
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The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
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But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
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And the day is dark and dreary.
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My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
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It rains, and the wind is never weary;
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My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
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But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
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And the days are dark and dreary.
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Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
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Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
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Thy fate is the common fate of all,
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Into each life some rain must fall,
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Some days must be dark and dreary.
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-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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