MAN’S HOPE.

ERE fades the last red glimmer of the sun;

Ere day is night, when on the glittering bar

The waves are foaming rubies, and afar

Streaks of red water, gold on the horizon,

On summer ripples rhythmically run;

Ere dusk is weaned, there sails on silver car

From the expectant East, the evening Star;

And all the threads of sorrow are unspun. {116B}


So He who ordered this shall still work thus,

And ere life’s lamp shall flicker into death,

And Time lose all his empire over us,

A gleam of Hope, of Knowledge, shall arise,

A star to silver o’er Death’s glooming skies,

And gladden the last labouring torch of breath.


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