Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/292

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Oh, for mine early confidence, Which like that graceful tree Bent cordial, as if each approach Could but in kindness be!

Then was the time the fairy Hope My future fortune told, Or Youth, the alchemist, that turn'd   Whate'er he touch'd to gold.

But Hope's sweet words can never be   What they have been of yore: I am grown wiser, and believe In fairy tales no more.