The fog rolls in as it has rolled
For years that never can be told,
And all the sky of sombre-gray
Makes drearier still the dreary day;
And hearts still ache
Until they break,
As it has been with Death alway.
But though the fog be deeper rolled
The sun's above it as of old;
No sky can be so sombre-gray,
But that the blue will have its way;
And hearts will wake
For love's dear sake,
As it has been with Life alway.