The dawn of the day was dreary, br And the lowering clouds o'erhead br Wept in a silent sorrow br Where the sweet sunshine lay dead; br And a wind came out of the eastward br Like an endless sigh of pain, br And the leaves fell down in the pathway br And writhed in the falling rain. br br I had tried in a brave endeavor br To chord my harp with the sun, br But the strings would slacken ever, br And the task was a weary one: br And so, like a child impatient br And sick of a discontent, br I bowed in a shower of tear-drops br And mourned with the instrument. br br And lo! as I bowed, the splendor br Of the sun bent over me, br With a touch as warm and tender br As a father's hand might be: br And, even as I felt its presence, br My clouded soul grew bright, br And the tears, like the rain of morning, br Melted in mists of light.