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Friedrich Schiller - Hope
Work rating: Low

We speak with the lip, and we dream in the soul,
  Of some better and fairer day;
And our days, the meanwhile, to that golden goal
  Are gliding and sliding away.
Now the world becomes old, now again it is young,
But "The better" `s forever the word on the tongue.

At the threshold of life hope leads us in—
  Hope plays round the mirthful boy;
Though the best of its charms may with youth begin,
  Yet for age it reserves its toy.
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