Leave me Hope when I am old, Strip my joys from me,Let November to the cold Bare each leafy tree;Chill my lover, dull my friend. Only, while I gropeTo the dark the silent end, Leave me Hope!
Blight my bloom when I am old, Bid my sunlight cease;If it need be from my hold Take the hand of Peace.Leave no springtime memory, But upon the slopeOf the days that are to be, Leave me Hope!
