Dreams

What dreams we have and how they fly

Like rosy clouds across the sky;

          Of wealth, of fame, of sure success,

          Of love that comes to cheer and bless;

And how they wither, how they fade,

The waning wealth, the jilting jade —

          The fame that for a moment gleams,

          Then flies forever, —dreams, ah —dreams!

O burning doubt and long regret

O tears with which our eyes are wet,

          Heart-throbs, heart-aches, the glut of pain,

          The somber cloud, the bitter rain,

You were not of those dreams — ah! well,

Your full fruition who can tell?

          Wealth, fame, and love, ah! love that beams

          Upon our souls, all dreams — ah! dreams.