Dreams
Oh!
that
my
young
life
were
a
lasting
dream!
My
spirit
not
awakening,
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
must
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
I'
the
summer
sky,
in
dreams
of
living
light
And
loveliness,-
have
left
my
very
heart
In
climes
of
my
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
remembrance
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'
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.
