They tell me this world’s full o’ trouble,
An’ each one comes in for a share;
An’ pleasure they say is a bubble,
‘At gooas floating away up in th’ air.
But aw’ll niver give way to repinin,
Tho’ th’ claads may luk gloomy an’ black,
For they all have a silvery linin,
An’ some day shall breeten awr track.
Let other fowk brood o’er ther sorrow,
From each day enjoyment we’ll borrow,
Let to-morrow tak care ov to-morrow,
An strive to be happy to-day.
(John Hartley)
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Based on Topics: Sadness PoemsBased on Keywords: awr, luk, gooas, claads, linin, repinin, breeten