The sky of brightest gray seems dark
    To one whose sky was ever white.
To one who never knew a spark,
    Thro' all his life, of love or light,
    The grayest cloud seems over-bright.

The robin sounds a beggar's note
    Where one the nightingale has heard,
But he for whom no silver throat
    Its liquid music ever stirred,
    Deems robin still the sweetest bird.