Poem for April 10, 2029

To Despair

I ever love where never hope appears,

Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care,

And my life's hope would die, but for despair;

My never-certain joy breeds ever-certain fears;

Uncertain dread gives wings unto my hope,

Yet my hope's wings are laden so with fear

As they cannot ascend to my hope's sphere;

Though fear gives them more than a heav'nly scope,

Yet this large room is bounded with despair;

So my love is still fetter'd with vain hope,

And liberty deprives him of his scope,

And thus am I imprison'd in the air.

Then, sweet despair, awhile hold up thy head,

Or all my hope for sorrow will be dead.