Charles Harpur

Hope On

Charles Harpur was an Australian poet.






Power's a cheat, success but trying,
  Even pleasure bears a sting;
Still ’tis useless, useless sighing,
Rather list to Hope replying—
  “The flowers must come again with spring;
And in the trampled way we re going
Streams of comfort yet are flowing—
  Hark! I hear them murmuring.”
Fame’s a liar in the nation!
  Love hath oft a wayward wing;
Still, hence seek not for occasion
To impugn Hope’s sweet persuasion—
  “The flowers will come again with spring;
And in the world-wide way we re going
Streams of pure good yet are flowing—
  Hark! I hear them murmuring.”

Friendship turns, itself denying
  Even Truth the heart may wring;
Still, though trust be daily dying,
Listen still to Hope replying—
  “The flowers will come again with spring:
And in the blasted way we re going
There’s yet one healing current flowing—
  Hark! I hear it murmuring.”

 

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