I took the breath of a rose that grew;
From a heap of rot and mold.
I took the song of ecstacy;
From a bird that sang on a leafless tree,
 In a wind that, was bleak and cold.
I took the light of a star which shone;
Through the black of a hopeless night.
I took the sigh an old dog gave;
As he starved at the side of his master's grave.
In the fading sunset light;
I took these things for my heart to heal,
Of a wound and its weary ache.
The poisoned scourge of a bitter tongue;
And the sore in my soul a look has stung,
The bruise that a sneer can make!