 | The Poems of Robert Bloomfield |  |
174
ROSAMOND'S SONG OF HOPE.
Sweet Hope, so oft my childhood's friend,
I will believe thee still,
For thou canst joy with sorrow blend,
Where grief alone would kill.
I will believe thee still,
For thou canst joy with sorrow blend,
Where grief alone would kill.
When disappointments wrung my heart,
Ill brook'd in tender years,
Thou, like a sun, perform'dst thy part,
And dried my infant tears.
Ill brook'd in tender years,
Thou, like a sun, perform'dst thy part,
And dried my infant tears.
When late I wore the bloom of health,
And love had bound me fast,
My buoyant heart would sigh by stealth
For fear it might not last.
And love had bound me fast,
My buoyant heart would sigh by stealth
For fear it might not last.
175
My sickness came, my bloom decay'd,
But Philip still was by;
And thou, sweet Hope, so kindly said,
“He'll weep if thou should'st die.”
But Philip still was by;
And thou, sweet Hope, so kindly said,
“He'll weep if thou should'st die.”
Thou told'st me too, that genial Spring
Would bring me health again;
I feel its power, but cannot sing
Its glories yet for pain.
Would bring me health again;
I feel its power, but cannot sing
Its glories yet for pain.
But thou canst still my heart inspire,
And Heaven can strength renew;
I feel thy presence, holy fire!
My Philip will be true.
And Heaven can strength renew;
I feel thy presence, holy fire!
My Philip will be true.
| The Poems of Robert Bloomfield | |