When things go wrong as the sometimes will,
When the road you are trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the depths are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.