beneath the cloud is clarity of sight
where choices made do not entail regret
but only wistfulness that we have set
our hopes too high as swiftly-coming night
will end the journey still in our despite
there's magic against which we may not bet
so each must laugh while all the foolish fret
for there's still someone who can make all right
not for us here the option to renew
all the old answers that no longer serve
to cover up what must now be made plain
those monstrous forms that we refuse to view
or the old houses just around the curve
where we used to take shelter from the rain