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I'D MOURN THE HOPES THAT LEAVE ME,
'Tis not in fate to harm me,
While fate leaves thy love to me ; 'Tis not in joy to charm me,
Unless joy be shared with thee. One minute's dream about thee
Were worth a long, an endless year Of waking bliss without thee,
My own love, my only dear !
And though the hope be gone, love,
That long sparkled o'er our way, Oh ! we shall journey on, love,
More safely without its ray. Far better lights shall win me
Along the path I've yet to roam,— The mind that burns within me,
And pure smiles from thee at home.
Thus, when the lamp that lighted
The trav'ller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted,
And looks round in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing,
By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering
As that light which Heaven sheds.