poems.
121
Till on the ruins of the past
A stronger hope is built at last.
Yet sometimes in the vale of woe
The stream of joy again will flow;
Like a fair stream, that, hid awhile
By gloomy rocks, again will smile,
And, joyful at its freedom, leap,
With merry noise, adown the steep!
A stronger hope is built at last.
Yet sometimes in the vale of woe
The stream of joy again will flow;
Like a fair stream, that, hid awhile
By gloomy rocks, again will smile,
And, joyful at its freedom, leap,
With merry noise, adown the steep!
Then the fair life's replenish'd stream
Sparkles beneath each sunny beam!
And echoing music points the way
Where happiness was wont to stray!
That blissful hour came to her:—
But we our tale must not defer.
The manly, true, and faithful heart
Conferring joy, was call'd to part
When midnight stole upon the hour
Steeping in tears love's fadeless flower.
Sparkles beneath each sunny beam!
And echoing music points the way
Where happiness was wont to stray!
That blissful hour came to her:—
But we our tale must not defer.
The manly, true, and faithful heart
Conferring joy, was call'd to part
When midnight stole upon the hour
Steeping in tears love's fadeless flower.
'Twas night indeed; the wailing wind
Betoken'd storms that stray'd behind;
And gloomy horror reign'd around
Unbroken by a sight or sound.
His heart beat high with love's true bliss;
Has life a happier hour than this,
When trust and hope and love bloom fair
Betoken'd storms that stray'd behind;
And gloomy horror reign'd around
Unbroken by a sight or sound.
His heart beat high with love's true bliss;
Has life a happier hour than this,
When trust and hope and love bloom fair
