Poems, by Robert Louis Stevenson, hitherto unpublished/Hopes
HOPES—1872
In its subject matter—its insistence on the "hopeful heart"—the kinship of these verses with so many others of Stevenson's is obvious; but both the date and the place of this composition have a rather special interest, inasmuch as 1871, that vital year when turbulent thoughts and emotions first calmed down sufficiently to permit a clear outlook upon life, has now been left behind. Scotland is replaced by Germany, and at Frankfort, in 1872, we find Stevenson writing in that vein of determined hope which was thenceforth to be his greatest source of strength. It is perhaps the only poem that he wrote in Germany, and one wonders whether the words in his autograph at the bottom of the manuscript and in the German script, recording that "Today for the first time I spoke to Elise," establish so pleasant a meeting with some attractive young girl as to suggest an additional reason for the cheerful tenor of the poem.
From the first to the last stanza Stevenson adheres to a line of imagery effective in itself, and characteristic of the introspective youth whose thoughts and hopes are so much a part of his daily life as to take on the aspect of personified companions. In such verses as "And new hopes whisper sweetly new delight," and "A troop of shouting hopes keep step with me," he gives voice and form to these creatures of the mind, in a manner that appealingly intensifies our realization of the intimate communion between the poet and his faithful troop of thoughts and aspirations.
HOPES
Tho' day by day old hopes depart,
Yet other hopes arise
If still we bear a hopeful heart
And forward-looking eyes.
Of all that entered hand in hand
With me the dusty plains—
Look round!—not one remains,
Not one remains of all the jovial band.
Some fell behind, some hastened on;
Some, scattered far and wide,
Sought lands on every side;
One way or other, all the band are gone.
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.