by Henry van Dyke (1852-1933)

If all the skies were sunshine
our faces would be fain
to feel once more upon them
the cooling plash of rain.

If life were always merry
our souls would seek relief
and rest from weary laughter
in the quiet arms of grief.

If all the world were music
our hearts would often long
for one sweet strain of silence
to break the endless song.