HOPE provides wings to thought, and love to hope.
Rise up to Cynthia, love, when night is clearest, And say, that as on high her figure changeth, So, upon earth, my joy decays and grows. How doubt oft hung its head, and truth oft wept. As she remains the same, yet changeth ever. Doubt may invade the heart, but poisons not, For love is sweeter, by suspicion flavour'd. If it with anger overcasts the eye, And heaven's bright purity perversely blackens, Then zephyr-sighs straight scare the clouds away, And, changed to tears, dissolve them into rain.