FANCY.

Happiness, when from earth she fled,

I passed on her heaven-ward flight,—

“Take this wreath,” the spirit said,

“And bathe it in floods of light;

To the sons of sorrow this token give,

And bid them follow my steps and live!”

I took the wreath from her radiant hand,

Each flower was a silver star;

I turned this dark earth to a fairy land,

When I hither drove my car;

But I wove the wreath round my tresses bright,

And man only saw its reflected light.

Many a lovely dream I've given,

And many a song divine,

But never — oh never!— that wreath from heaven

Shall mortal temples twine.

Hope and love in the chaplet glow:

‘ Tis all too bright for a world of woe!