We ask for room where a hope can grow,
A dear old hope that has tried to live;
A place where its starving roots may go,
And secret springs their moisture give.
Room! room for a hope that can not pass,
That drinks the lightest dews that spill
From broken boughs and withered grass,
And clings to life with desperate will.

We ask for room where a hope can grow,
A dear old hope that has tried to live;
A place where its starving roots may go,
And secret springs their moisture give.
Room! room for a hope that can not pass,
That drinks the lightest dews that spill
From broken boughs and withered grass,
And clings to life with desperate will.