There is a star that cheers our way Along this dreary world of wo, That tips with light the waves of life, However bitterly they flow. 'Tis Hope! 'tis Hope! that blessed star: Which peers through Misery's darkest cloud; And only sets where Death has brought The pall, the tombstone, and the shroud. But, ah! to look upon the dead, And know they ne'er can wake again; To lose the one we love the best: Oh! God! it sears the breast and brain. Then, then, the human heart will groan, And pine beneath the stroke of Fate; 'Twill break, to find itself alone, A thing all sad and desolate! |