DISILLUSION.

Ah! what would youth be doing

To hoist his crimson sails,

To leave the wood-doves cooing,

The song of nightingales;

To leave this woodland quiet

For murmuring winds at strife,

For waves that foam and riot

About the seas of life?

From still bays, silver sanded,

Wild currents hasten down

To rocks where ships are stranded

And eddies where men drown.

Far out, by hills surrounded,

Is the golden haven gate,

And all beyond unbounded

Are shoreless seas of fate.

They steer for those far highlands

Across the summer tide

And dream of fairy islands

Upon the further side.

They only see the sunlight,

The flashing of gold bars;

But the other side is moonlight

And glimmer of pale stars.

They will not heed the warning

Blown back on every wind,

For hope is born with morning,

The secret is behind.

Whirled through in wild confusion,

They pass the narrow strait,

To the sea of disillusion

That lies beyond the gate.