Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream?
my spirit not awakening, till the beam
of an eternity should bring the morrow
Yes! though 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 choas of deep passion, from his birth.
but should it be that dream eternally
continuing as dreams have been to me
in my young boy hood should it thus be given,
Twere folly still to hope for higer heaven.
for i have revelled when the sun was bright
I' the summer sky, isn dreams of living light
and loveliness have left my very heart
inclines of my imaginary apart
from mine own home, with being 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
cameo'er me in the night, and left behind
its image on my spirit of the moon
shone on my stumbers in her lofty noon
too coldly or the stars how e'er it was
that dream was as that night-wind let it pass.
i have been happy , though in a dream
i have been happy and i love the them
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 my own!!!!
than young. hope in his sunniest hour hath known
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