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|Oh! that my young life were a lasting
My spirit not awak'ning till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow —
Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
‘Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life to him whose heart shall be,
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 revell'd when the sun was bright
In the summer sky, in dreams of living light
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?
‘Twas once — and only once (and the wild hour
From my remembering shall not pass) some power
Or spell, had bound me — 'twas 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
Too coldly — or the stars — howe'er it was ——
That dream was as that night-wind — let it pass —
I have been happy — tho' but in a dream
I have been happy — and I love the theme.
Dreams in their vivid colouring 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.
W. H. P.