What Do The Futures Speak Of? Poem by Anna Laetitia Barbauld

IN ANSWER TO A QUESTION IN THE GREEK GRAMMAR

They speak of never-withering shades,
And bowers of opening joy;
They promise mines of fairy gold,
And bliss without alloy.
They whisper strange enchanting things
Within Hope's greedy ears;
And sure this tuneful voice exceeds
The music of the spheres.

They speak of pleasure to the gay,
And wisdom to the wise;
And soothe the poet's beating heart
With fame that never dies.
To virgins languishing in love
They speak the minute nigh;
And warm consenting hearts they join,
And paint the rapture high.
In every language, every tongue,
The same kind things they say;
In gentle slumbers speak by night,
In waking dreams by day.
Cassandra's fate reversed is theirs;
She true, no faith could gain,—
They every passing hour deceive,
Yet are believed again.