Hope Poem by James Logie Robertson

O bright-eyed Hope, that still look'st back on me,
And beckon'st with thy hand, seeming to say—
“Leave caring for these baubles of To-Day;
Lift up thy heavy lids; look on and see
The glory waiting in the far To-Be,
Before whose beams thy present joys shall show
As shows the wan moon in the morning-glow,
And all thy troubles like the night-fog flee!”
How light at times my labours seem when I
Look up to wipe my brow, and see thee there
O'erwatching all my toil with constant eye,
Lustrous, and oh! above all fancy fair!
And yet the fear—that sometime thou shalt fly
And leave me to the blankness of despair!