Hope

In shadowy calm the boat
Sleeps by the dreaming oar,
The green hills are afloat
Beside the silver shore.

Youth hoists the white-winged sail,
Love takes the longing oar —
The oft-told fairy tale
Beside the silver shore.

Soft lip to lip, and heart
To heart, and hand to hand,
And wistful eyes depart
Unto another strand.

And lovely as a star
They tremble o'er the wave,
With eager wings afar
Unto the joys they crave.
In a sweet trance they fare
Unto the wind and rain,
With wind-tossed waves of hair,
And ne'er return again.
And at the drifting side,
Changed faces in the deep
They see, and changing tide,
Like phantoms in a sleep.

Slow hands furl the torn sail
Without one silver gleam,
And sad, and wan, and pale,
They gaze into a dream.