HOPE. 
103 
HAWTHORN. 
Cratcegus. 
Language — HOPE. 
Her precious pearl, in sorrow’s cup 
Unnoticed at the bottom lay, 
To shine again, when, all drunk up, 
The bitterness should pass away. 
Hooke. 
A golden cage of sunbeams 
Half down a rainbow hung ; 
And sweet therein a golden bird 
The whole bright morning sung ! 
The winged shapes around it flew, 
Enchanted as they heard; 
It was the bird of Hope, my love ; 
It was Hope’s golden bird. 
And ever of to-morrow 
The siren song began ; 
Ah, what on earth so musical 
As hope and love to man ? 
I listened, thinking still of thee, 
And of thy promised word ; 
It was the bird of Hope, my love ; 
It was Hope’s golden bird. 
Axorr. 
