“Hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates,”
confessed in the end:
“Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around.”
Very beautiful are these rainbow visions--but they are conjured out of
night.
“Hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates,”
confessed in the end:
“Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around.”
Very beautiful are these rainbow visions--but they are conjured out of
night.