Hope

I heard a voice at dead of night,

Rise softly on the swelling blast,

It fill'd my soul with sad delight,

The echo of the past.

It seemed to say, "O ne'er forget,

The days of fond affection flown,

If William be remembered yet,

Believe his heart thy own.

Believe the glories of the East,

The dangers of the frozen sea.

Nor time, nor distance have effaced,

The love he felt for thee.