Antithesis

The poet wrought a song of sadness, fraught

With all the pain the world's sad heart hath proved;

He sang of doubt, and dreams that end in naught...

Then, smiling, turned and kissed the lips he loved.

The poet wrought a song of joyance, thrilled

With all the peace the world's glad heart hath kept;

He sang of hope and happy dreams fulfilled...

Then bent his face upon his hands and wept.