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.