There's no dearth of kindness In the world of ours; Only in our blindness We gather thorns for flowers.

There's no dearth of kindness in this world of ours; Only in our blindness we gather thorns for flowers.

There's no dearth of kindness In the world of ours; Only in our blindness We gather thorns for flowers.

Not by appointment do we meet delight Or joy; they heed not our expectancy; But round some corner of the streets of life they of a sudden greet us with a smile.

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

People would rather sleep In their bed of nails rather than in my bed of flowers simply because a few flowers had thorns.