Emotions war within me: joy and woe.
The woe is what is common unto all;
The joy is personal, and therefore small.
The one is from a long decade ago
Events that all appropriately know
And so deplore; yet it cannot forestall
Although in certain lights it casts a pall
Over the other: yet joy has a glow
Which lights up hope even within grief.
Even when what's remembered is all pain
It is against our very human grain
To let that sad devotion be a thief
Of all the rest of life. At times like this
Perhaps its best to season woe with bliss.
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