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.
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