And the future look’d blooming and gay:
And with woman’s devotion she laid her fond heart
At the shrine of idolatrous love,
And she anchor’d her hopes to this perishing earth,
By the chain which her tenderness wove.
But I saw when those heartstrings were bleeding and torn,
And the chain had been sever’d in two,
She had changed her white robes for the sables of grief,
And her bloom for the paleness of wo!
But the Healer was there, pouring balm on her heart,