How beautiful the earth is still, To thee——how full of happiness？ How little fraught² with real ill, Or unreal phantoms³ of distress⁴！ How spring can bring thee glory, yet, And summer win thee to forget December's sullen⁵ time！ Why dost thou hold the treasure fast, Of youth's delight, when youth is past, And thou art near thy prime？

    When those who were thy own compeers, Equals in fortune and in years, Have seen their morning melt in tears, To clouded, smileless day； Blest, had they died untried and young, Before their hearts went wandering wrong,—— Poor slaves, subdued⁶ by passions strong, A weak and helpless prey⁷！

    'Because, I hoped while they enjoyed, And by fulfilment, hope destroyed； As children hope, with trustful breast, I waited bliss——and cherished rest. A thoughtful spirit taught me soon, That we must long till life be done； That every phase of earthly joy Must always fade, and always cloy⁸：

    'This I foresaw——and would not chase The fleeting⁹ treacheries； But, with firm foot and tranquil¹⁰ face, Held backward from that tempting¹¹ race, Gazed o'er the sands the waves efface¹², To the enduring seas—— There cast my anchor of desire Deep in unknown eternity¹³； Nor ever let my spirit tire, With looking for WHAT IS TO BE！

    "It is hope's spell that glorifies¹⁴, Like youth, to my maturer eyes, All Nature's million mysteries, The fearful and the fair—— Hope soothes¹⁵ me in the griefs I know； She lulls¹⁶ my pain for others' woe¹⁷, And makes me strong to undergo What I am born to bear.

    Glad comforter！ will I not brave, Unawed, the darkness of the grave？ Nay¹⁸, smile to hear Death's billows rave—— Sustained, my guide, by thee？ The more unjust seems present fate, The more my spirit swells¹⁹ elate, Strong, in thy strength, to anticipate Rewarding destiny！