Leaf by leaf the roses fall,
  Drop by drop the springs run dry, 
One by one, beyond recall,
  Summer beauties fade and die; 
But the roses bloom again.
  And the springs will gush anew 
In the pleasant April rain,
  And the summer's sun and dew.
So in hours of deepest gloom,
  When the springs of gladness fail. 
And the roses in their bloom
  Droop like maidens wan and pale, 
We shall find some hope that lies
  Like a silent germ apart, 
Hidden far from careless eyes,
  In the garden of the heart.
Some sweet hope to gladness wed,
  That will spring afresh and new, 
When grief's winter shall have fled.
  Giving place to sun and dew. 
Some sweet hope that breathes of spring,
  Through the weary, weary time, 
Budding for its blossoming.
  In the spirit's silent clime.
Caroline Dana Howe (August 21, 1824 - October 30, 1907)