In the bright days of early youth, <br />Hope told a fond, delusive tale <br />Of lasting friendship, holy truth, <br />And steadfast love which ne'er should fail. <br />I listened to the flattering strain <br />With all the fire of ardent youth; <br />And long I sought, but sought in vain, <br />To find the dwelling-place of truth. <br />Though many in her garb appeared, <br />Assumed her name and simple mien, <br />Ere long the vile deceit was cleared, <br />And all the hypocrite was seen. <br />And friendship, too, though long and loud <br />Her voice I 've heard in many a place, <br />Among the fickle, thoughtless crowd, <br />I never have beheld her face. <br />Love, next, its bright and glittering chain <br />Around the captive fancy threw; <br />But soon its vows proved false and vain <br />As the chameleon's changeful hue. <br />Now, when the hopes and joys are dead <br />That gladdened once the heart of youth, <br />All the romantic visions fled <br />That told of friendship, love and truth, <br />Turn we unto that steadfast friend <br />Who guards our steps where'er they rove, <br />Whose power supports us to the end, <br />Whose word is truth, whose name is love.<br /><br />James Monroe Whitfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/delusive-hope/
