Hope Deferred
Hope deferred maketh the heart sick. Proverbs, XIII,12
Where is the perfect Vision
The years have watched to see?
Why do the footsteps falter
That should be swift to me?
Days, days, and days of waiting,
And days that linger still
Till the heart aches to be breaking-
And night is on the Hill.
Where, while I listen, listen
Thro hours that go and come
And silence unbroken,
The Voice that yet is dumb?
The one Voice that could bring me,
Triumphant, rapturous, clear-
O God! O God! - the message
My soul is sick to hear!
A Hope
It befell me on a day-
Long ago; ah, long ago!
When my life was in its May,
In the May-month of the year.
All the orchards were like snow
With pink-flushes here and there;
And a bird sang building near-
And a bird sang far away,
Where the early twilight lay.
Long ago; ah, long ago!
Youth’s sweet May passed quite away-
May that never more is May.
And I hear the nightingale
Singing far adown the vale
Where the early twilight lies:
Singing sad, and sweet, and strong;
And I wonder if the song
May be heard in Paradise!
Fairer than any flower
Of summer’s hour,
Sweeter than any love-
Ay, sweet in truth! -
Of her what shall be said?
Hope, that is dead!
Fair Hope, that garlanded,
Fair Hope that led and fed
The dreams of youth.
What song is sweet enough
To sing of her?
What murmur of the dove,
What cooing note thereof,
To breath the memories
That cling to her?
Hope, brave and strong!
Hope sweeter than all song,
What song is sweet enough
To sing of her!
How weary are the ways
Unto our feet!
O, lagging length of days
That once were fleet!
O, barren of all grace,
Life, that she made so sweet!
Hidden from moon and star,
She that was fairer far
To look upon!
Not where the roses are,
But where slow waters sweep
To the great deep;
Where only shadows wan,
And rain may fall thereon,
But never the warm sun.
