To a Pessimist

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There are too many shadows in your visions,
Life does have bits of calm;
Not everything in existence is a wound
From which blood gushes forth.
Fighting has a shadow; and dying
passions, fugitive tenderness,
everything loved that on passing is forgotten
is a source of distressing disappointments.
But, why doubt, if they yet offer,
in the remote, dark future,
calm depths and vivid affection
deep tenderness, the pure kiss
and a woman's hands, that lovers rock
the pink cradles of children?