At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
Ah, dream too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise But to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, "On! on!" _ but o'er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast.
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Ah, dream too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise But to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, "On! on!" _ but o'er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast.
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