Too bright the glance your wishes sent
Into the future's day,
Too sweet the trust on which you leant,
Not to give way.
Oh ever in this treacherous world,
If you your peace would prize,
Keep Expectation's quick wings furled,
And veil Hope's eyes.
Sad though it be to lose these gay
Phantoms at least of bliss;
To watch them slowly fade away
Is worse than this.
