Yes, all are gone; and yet, at night,
New objects of desire
People the sunken fire
And new hopes whisper sweetly new delight;
And still, flush-faced, new goals I see,
New finger-posts I find,
And still thro' rain and wind
A troop of shouting hopes keep step with me.
Tho' day by day old hopes depart,
Yet other hopes arise
If still we bear a hopeful heart
And forward-looking eyes.
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