Some griefs there are which seem to form
Our nature's heaviest doom;
Which like some dark and dreadful storm
Cover the soul with gloom;
And with the tempest's direful wrath
Leave devastation in their path.

But others soft as summer-showers
Descend upon the heart,
And to its most delightful flowers
Fresh loveliness impart;
Awakening feelings not of earth,
Which could not owe to joy their birth.