And it brings to mind, oh! it brings to mind,
Happy hours that are now gone by;
The blush and the smile, as I gazed the while
On the light of a soft blue eye.
And it makes me feel, oh! it makes me feel,
The loss of those earlier years;
When hearts are so light, and hope is so bright,
And nothing but pleasure appears.
Then the moon looks lone, and I feel as lone,
How could it otherwise be?
There's nothing on high, but a starless sky,
And here there's nothing but sea.
And that passing cloud, and that passing cloud,
Whose gloom as it low'rs, I now mark,
Is the transient shade which sorrow has made,
When the prospect around looks dark.
It brightens again, it brightens again,
And how clear is the blue serene!
The cloud passes on, the shadow is gone,
Was ever so placid a scene?
So is it with hope,—thus is it with hope,
For hope seems to me like the moon;
Its look is so soft, it changes so oft,
And it darkens and brightens as soon.
Hope saves from despair,—hope conquers despair,
And enlivens the surrounding gloom:
Its abiding ray fadeth not away,
But shines—even on to the tomb.
Then rouse thee my heart, and cheer thee my heart,
And let all thy hopes still be green;
For oh! thou shalt not by friends be forgot,
Though distance and time intervene.
But prepare to meet,—be ready to meet
What good or what ill may befall,
Whatever betide, be it still thy pride
To be calm and resign'd in all.
