Hope

But when shall Hope, soft promiser of rest,
Dawn on the frowning midnight of this breast.
When show again the fixture to my sight
Glitt'ring with rainbow visions of delight;
When, when shall Fate's black wave no longer roll,
What ray shall thaw this winter of the soul?
Is there a Spring, by pitying Heav'n design'd
To renovate the verdure of the Mind?

Laura Sophia Temple