Classic Poem

I

The good time that's coming is not far away;
The weariest Winter is dreaming of May;
Out o' the darkness the light o' day —
The morning! the morning! the morning!

II

What of the sorrows of all the dark years —
What of the lost hopes, and what of the fears?
After the grief and the rain o' the tears —
The morning! the morning! the morning!

III

Fast part the storm-clouds, unveiling the bright;
The ships hear the home-bells — the harbor's in sight;
And we dream, and we drift evermore to the light —
The morning! the morning! the morning!