Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes

Charlotte Smith

1749 to 1806

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A prey to fear, anxiety, and pain,
      How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn!
Enchantress come! and charm my cares to rest:
      And clear my painful path of pointed thorn?
Come then, 'pale Misery's love!' be thou my cure,
      'For me the vernal garland blooms no more.'
      Alas! the flatterer flies, and will not hear!
      Like the young hours that lead the tender year
Ah come, sweet nymph! in smiles and softness drest,
      Must I a sad existence still deplore?
Lo! the flowers fade, but all the thorns remain,
Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes!
For me wilt thou renew the withered rose,
And I will bless thee, who though slow art sure.