The night is mother of the day,
The winter of the spring;
And ever upon old decay
The greenest mosses cling.
Behind the cloud the starlight lurks,
Through showers the sunbeams fall;
For God, who loveth all his works,
Has left his hope with all.
—John Greenleaf Whittier.
This image does not belong to BeliJose’s Fashion Hauz.
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