Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
As Amy spoke, a great tear dropped on the golden hair of the sleeping child in her arms, for her one well-beloved daughter was a frail little creature and the dread of losing her was the shadow over Amy’s sunshine.
This cross was doing much for both father and mother, for one love and sorrow bound them closely together.
Amy’s nature was growing sweeter, deeper, and more tender. Laurie was growing more serious, strong, and firm, and both were learning that beauty, youth, good fortune, even love itself, cannot keep care and pain, loss and sorrow, from the most blessed for…
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and sad and dreary…