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HOPE. 235 |
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In that vision I would not for worlds have retrac'd The pathway that led me to heaven; I would not have trodden again life's dark waste, For all which this earth could have given.
'Twere meet to mourn for the sojourner here, But not for the blest of that holier sphere! I have trod with them in my dreaming hours
That beautiful region of rest; I have wander'd with them through fadeless flowers,
And heard the deep songs of the blest.
For awhile I'd forgotten this lower sphere— Forgotten the clouds that envelop me here. I woke from my reverie: my pathway still lay
Through a cheerless land of sorrow and gloom; I am treading still its bewilder'd way,
And that land of rest lies beyond the tomb.
1845. ,
HOPE.
0, what is hope ? It is a light, A star, to gild the arch of night,
That bends above us here; A cheering beam of heavenly day, Which drives the low'ring clouds away
Of dark, foreboding fear. |
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