 | Poems (1857) |  |
176
THE BIRD OF HOPE.
I
A golden cage of sunbeamsHalf down a rainbow hung;
And sweet therein a golden bird
The whole bright morning sung!—
The winged shapes around it, grew
Enchanted as they heard:
It was the bird of Hope—my love—
It was Hope's golden bird!
II
And ever of to-morrowThe syren song began!—
177
As love and hope to man?—
I listened, thinking still of thee,
And of thy promised word:
It was the bird of Hope—sweet love—
It was Hope's golden bird!
III
Though ours should be a cottage home,From pride and pomp apart;
The truest wealth for happiness
Is still a faithful heart.
And thus it sung—“unloving wealth
Would never be preferred!”—
It was the bird of Hope—sweet love—
It was Hope's golden bird!
| Poems (1857) | |