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THE FUTURE.
Did we know the affection engrossing our soul
Will end, as it oft does, in sadness and pain;
That the passionate breast will but hazard its rest,
And be wreck'd on the shore it is panting to gain:

Oh! did we but know of the shadows so nigh,
The world would indeed be a prison of gloom;
All light would be quench'd in youth's eloquent eye,
And the prayer-lisping infant would ask for the tomb.

For if Hope be a star that may lead us astray,
And "deceiveth the heart," as the aged ones preach;
Yet 'twas Mercy that gave it, to beacon our way,
Though its halo illumes where we never can reach.

Though Friendship but flit, like a meteor gleam,
Though it burst, like a morn-lighted bubble of dew;
Though it passes away, like a leaf on the stream,
Yet 'tis bliss while we fancy the vision is true.

Oh! 'tis well that the Future is hid from our sight;
That we walk in the sunshine, nor dream of the cloud;
That we cherish a flower, and think not of blight;
That we dance on the loom that may weave us a shroud.

It was good, it was kind, in the Wise One above,
To fling Destiny's veil o'er the face of our years;
That we dread not the blow that shall strike at our love,
And expect not the beams that shall dry up our tears.


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