DREAMS.

He spake not truth, however wise, who said

That happy, and that hapless men in sleep

Have equal fortune, fallen from care as deep

As countless, careless, races of the dead.

Not so, for alien paths of dreams we tread,

And one beholds the faces that he sighs

In vain to bring before his daylit eyes,

And waking, he remembers on his bed;

And one with fainting heart and feeble hand

Fights a dim battle in a doubtful land

Where strength and courage were of no avail;

And one is borne on fairy breezes far

To the bright harbours of a golden star

Down fragrant fleeting waters rosy pale.