In Answer to a Question from the Greek Grammar: "What do the Futures Speak of?"
They speak of never withering shades
And bowers of opening joy,
They promise mines of fairy gold
And bliss without alloy.
They whisper strange enchanting things
Within Hope's greedy ears,
And sure this tuneful voice exceeds
The music of the spheres.
They speak of pleasure to the gay
And wisdom to the wise,
And soothe the poet's beating heart
With fame that never dies.
To virgins languishing in love
They speak the moment nigh,
And warm consenting hearts they join
And paint the rapture high.
In every language, every tongue,
The same kind things they say,
In gentle slumbers speak by night,
In waking dreams by day.
Cassandra's fate reversed is their's,
She, true, no faith could gain,
They every passing hour deceive,
Yet are believed again.
And bowers of opening joy,
They promise mines of fairy gold
And bliss without alloy.
They whisper strange enchanting things
Within Hope's greedy ears,
And sure this tuneful voice exceeds
The music of the spheres.
They speak of pleasure to the gay
And wisdom to the wise,
And soothe the poet's beating heart
With fame that never dies.
To virgins languishing in love
They speak the moment nigh,
And warm consenting hearts they join
And paint the rapture high.
In every language, every tongue,
The same kind things they say,
In gentle slumbers speak by night,
In waking dreams by day.
Cassandra's fate reversed is their's,
She, true, no faith could gain,
They every passing hour deceive,
Yet are believed again.
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