Some days the sun won't shine, or smile on dreams,
and being very weary since it shone -
shone on a different life long years ago,
and all too soon indifferent sought the clouds -
often it's all too easy, so it seems,
to think that all my hopes in life have gone
and left me in this wilderness I know
estranged from lost and long forgotten crowds -
you.
You are the thought my mind returns to hold;
yours is the court in which I sing my songs;
yours is a mystery pow'r that I can see,
when in your absence bitter winds blow cold,
your voice the sound for which my spirit longs -
then I remember most that you believed in me.