OH, that my young life were a lasting dream!

My spirit not awakening, till the beam

Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.

Yes! though that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,

[[v]]

’T were better than the cold reality

[[v]]

Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,

[[v]]

And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,

A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.

But should it be — that dream eternally

Continuing — as dreams have been to me

In my young boyhood — should it thus be given

’Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.

For I have revelled when the sun was bright

[[v]]

In the summer sky, in dreams of living light.

[[v]]

And loveliness, — have left my very heart

In climes of mine imagining, apart

From mine own home, with beings that have been

Of mine own thought — what more could I have seen?

’T was once — and only once — and the wild hour

From my remembrance shall not pass — some power

Or spell had bound me; ’t was the chilly wind

Came o’er me in the night, and left behind

Its image on my spirit — or the moon

Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon [page 126:]

Too coldly — or the stars, — howe’er it was

That dream was as that night-wind — let it pass.

 

I have been happy, though in a dream.

I have been happy — and I love the theme —

Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,

As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife

Of semblance with reality which brings

To the delirious eye, more lovely things

Of Paradise and Love — and all our own —

Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.