I.—HOPE.
I mark, as April days serenely smile,
Clouds heaped on clouds in mountain-like array,
While radiant sunbeams with their summits play,
Gilding with gorgeous tints the mighty pile;
And earth partakes of every hue the while!
Oft have I felt on such a day as this,
The sudden shower down-pouring on my head,
Though in the distance all is loveliness.
Thither, in vain, with rapid step I've sped.
I liken this to Hope: although with sorrow
The heart is overcast, and dim the eye;
Delusive Hope—not present, ever nigh,
Presages gladness on a coming morrow,
And lures us onward, till our latest sigh.