Hope stood one morning by the way,
And stretched her fair right hand to me,
And softly whispered, “For this day
I'll company with thee.”
“Ah, no, dear Hope,” I sighing said;
“Oft have you joined me in the morn,
But when the evening came, you fled
And left me all forlorn.
“‘ Tis better I should walk alone
Than have your company awhile,
And then to lose it, and go on
For weary mile on mile,”
She turned, rebuked. I went my way,
But sad the sunshine seemed, and chill;
I missed her, missed her all the day,
And O, I miss her still.