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Till unrelenting Sorrow, with her busy hand
Tears the thin transient veil which shielded thee from view,
And shows the fall'n blossom that once was happiness.
But who is she that stands with placid silent air,
Contemplating thy fate?—'tis lovely Hope, who cries,—
Grieve not, ye feeble mortals, at its sudden fall;
How could it e'er survive? nipp'd in the tender bud
By chill neglect, blighted by sorrow's killing frost,
And blasted by the dark mildew of unkindness;
The wretched soil of earth is much too low and poor
To raise a tender plant so eminently fair:
It cannot bloom except in heaven, and there alone
It will expand and live to all eternity.
Tears the thin transient veil which shielded thee from view,
And shows the fall'n blossom that once was happiness.
But who is she that stands with placid silent air,
Contemplating thy fate?—'tis lovely Hope, who cries,—
Grieve not, ye feeble mortals, at its sudden fall;
How could it e'er survive? nipp'd in the tender bud
By chill neglect, blighted by sorrow's killing frost,
And blasted by the dark mildew of unkindness;
The wretched soil of earth is much too low and poor
To raise a tender plant so eminently fair:
It cannot bloom except in heaven, and there alone
It will expand and live to all eternity.
