Page:Amulet 1831.pdf/7

That time so breathless and so brief,
    The false, and yet the true,
When hope writes on a red rose leaf
    The beautiful and new.

The morning lights each hour makes less
    Dance o'er the morning tide;
And we believe in happiness,
    Because as yet untried.

Now shine and storm alike are past—
    Thy future is with those
Whose earthly grief and trouble cast,
    On heaven and hope repose.

Flung carelessly, 'mid robe and plume,
    'Mid chaplet, and 'mid chain,
This trophy of thy early bloom!—
    It does not speak in vain:

For I am taught how much the heart
    Has with itself to strive—
How it subdues its weaker part,
    While faith is kept alive!

For thou hast struggled with despair,
    And kept thy steadfast way,
Though all that seemed so bright, so fair,
    Scattered around thee lay.