Henry Livingston, Jr.
Henry Livingston's Poetry

Ladies Museum
13 Dec. 1817, p. 103; by R



Amid the varying scenes of life,
Where wasting care, and noisy strife
The shifting drama fill;
In this dark valley drowned in tears,
Augmented by increasing years,
HOPE lights her taper still.

What though the soul ride on the waves,
Where danger lurks, and terror raves,
To fright the goddess' joy;
To save her from the rock Despair,
Hope is her steady anchor there--
Credulity the buoy.

What though a deluge whelm the ground,
Nought but the sea be seen around,
And naught but heaven above;
Like Noah, on the tide of grief,
The mind soon finds a sweet relief,
And Hope her herald-dove.

Thus, when the box of misery broke,
Fair Hope survived the cruel shock--
--Catholieon most sure--
For all the pains that wreck the mind,
And all the ills that vex mankind,
Herself a ready cure.

Dec 1 Henry makes his will at age 69

early December Charles returns to Poughkeepsie from the Highlands and stays 2 months;

Henry writes to grandson Sidney:
"If Heaven preserves your health you must eventually succeed. In all new countries especially such a new country as yours), all is HOPE."


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