The Funeral of Hope.
I have been to the funeral of all my hopes. And entombed them one by one ; Not a word was said, Not a tear -was shed, When the mournful tastt was done. Slowly and sadly I turned me around And songht my silent room ; And there alone, By the cold hearthstone, X wooed the midnight gloom. And then as night with deepening shade, Lowered above my brow, I wept o’er days When manhood’s rays Were brighter far than now. The dying embers on the hearth Gave out their flickering light, As if to say, i. That is the way Thy life Bfaall close in night. I wept aloud in anguish sore, O’er the blight of prospects fair ;J While demons laughed, An d eager quaffed My tears, like neotar rare. Through Hell’s red hall an echo rang, An echo loud and long, , As in the bowl I plunge my soul; In the night of madness strong. And there, within that sparkling glass, I knew the caupe to lie ; This all men own, From zone to zone, Vet millions drink and die. , , —Bichard Liles.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZMAIL18881123.2.14.1
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Mail, Issue 873, 23 November 1888, Page 4
Word Count
187The Funeral of Hope. New Zealand Mail, Issue 873, 23 November 1888, Page 4
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