And said I that all hope was fled, <br />That sorrow and despair were mine, <br />That each enthusiast wish was dead, <br />Had sank beneath pale Misery’s shrine.-- <br /> <br />Seest thou the sunbeam's yellow glow, <br />That robes with liquid streams of light; <br />Yon distant Mountain's craggy brow. <br />And shows the rocks so fair,--so bright-- <br /> <br />Tis thus sweet expectation’s ray, <br />In softer view shows distant hours, <br />And portrays each succeeding day, <br />As dressed in fairer, brighter flowers,-- <br /> <br />The vermeil tinted flowers that blossom; <br />Are frozen but to bud anew, <br />Then sweet deceiver calm my bosom, <br />Although thy visions be not true,-- <br /> <br />Yet true they are,—and I’ll believe, <br />Thy whisperings soft of love and peace, <br />God never made thee to deceive, <br />'Tis sin that bade thy empire cease. <br /> <br />Yet though despair my life should gloom, <br />Though horror should around me close, <br />With those I love, beyond the tomb, <br />Hope shows a balm for all my woes. <br /> <br />AUGUST, 1810.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-hope/
