HOPE COMES AGAIN.

Hope comes again, to this heart long a stranger,

Once more she sings me her flattering strain;

But hush, gentle syren — for, ah, there's less danger

In still suffering on, than in hoping again.

Long, long, in sorrow, too deep for repining,

Gloomy, but tranquil, this bosom hath lain:

And joy coming now, like a sudden light shining

O'er eyelids long darkened, would bring me but pain.

Fly then, ye visions, that Hope would shed o'er me;

Lost to the future, my sole chance of rest

Now lies not in dreaming of bliss that's before me.

But, ah — in forgetting how once I was blest.