“Hope. ”
On G. F. Watts’s Picture.
Look up, ye weary-hearted, spent with
sighs ;1
Say not all’s dark, while one fair Spirit here2
Keeps loyal vigil o’er your shadowed sphere.3
And yet not vigil—blindfold are her eyes ;4
She sees not yet the end of miseries5
That, rising like harsh discords from beneath,6
Have riven the lyre her faithful arms enwreathe.7
For from that sphere ascend no harmonies—8
Ah, no ! but moaning on its single string9
Like midnight wind, one note of anguish frets10
Her lyre, and yet she smiles while bending low,11
A sweet, worn smile, wafted from far-off Spring.12
“ Sweet note, ” she seems to murmur, “ well I know13
You chime with that one star which never sets.
”14
Symmetrical tailpiece of a Grecian head. Sharp, curved, and shaded double-ruled lines
form a geometric shape around the head.
A foliate pattern is intertwined throughout the lines, and a fleuron emerges from
each horizontal end. 1/32 page.