Classic Poem

“The darkest hour is always before dawn,”
So saith the olden proverb. Is it true?
Ah! love, dear love, bethink thee of this phrase,
Nor take a step that thou must ever rue.

Be patient, for the end will surely come;
Such love as mine must some day have reward—
Thy knightly champion I shall ever be,
And only ask to live in thy regard.

Fate is against us now—may e'er be so;
I dare not yet the future seek to trace;
But whether we shall meet again, or no,
I never shall forget thy sweet, sad face.

When gleams of silver come upon thy hair,
And trouble prematurely dims thine eye,
To me thou wilt be beautiful and fair
As lovely landscape, or soft summer sky.

Though I should live to be a hundred years,
And all my memories fade into the past;
When the death-angel comes then through my tears
Thy name will be upon my lips the last.

“The darkest hour is always before dawn”—
Take comfort in adversity from this;
If love shall never have requital here,
It may have place in realms of endless bliss.

The sea of sorrow, and the gloom of death,
May overwhelm us for a little space;
Yet, if we may not meet on earth again,
We shall in Heaven, by Christ's saving grace.