I HOPE by Mildred Bowers Armstrong I hope that I shall never tire Of watching colors in the fire. I hope I shall not be too old To see the lilac-stars unfold, Or find the pear tree wearing white When spring is summer over-night. When I am tired of rapture, Let me die then. Let me never see the frost Or a fern again. When songs do not delight, When waves that lip the pier, Or driftwood fires, Or faces, Are no longer dear- Let me die quickly; Let me not know The eyes of friends, Candlelight, silence, or snow.