The sweeter fragrance from it springs.
If justice throw athwart our way,
A deepening eve of fear and sorrow,
Hope, like the moon, reflects the ray
Of the bright sun that shines to-morrow.
And mercy gilds with stars the night;
Sweet music plays through weeping willows;
The blackest cave with gems is bright,
And pearls illume the ocean billows.
The very grave, though clouds may rise,