A Dream of Life
| When I was young— long, long ago— I dreamed myself among the flowers; And fancy drew the picture so, They seemed like Fairies in their bowers. |
The rose was still a rose, you know—
But yet a maid. What could I do?
You surely would not have me go,
When rosy maidens seem to woo?
My heart was gay, and ’mid the throng
I sported for an hour or two;
We danced the flowery paths along,
And did as youthful lovers do.
But sports must cease, and so I dreamed
To part with these, my fairy flowers—
But oh, how very hard it seemed
To say good-by ’mid such sweet bowers!
And one fair Maid of modest air
Gazed on me with her eye of blue;
I saw the tear-drop gathering there—
How could I say to her, Adieu!
I fondly gave my hand and heart,
And we were wed. Bright hour of youth!
How little did I think to part
With my sweet bride, whose name was Truth!
But time passed on, and Truth grew gray,
And chided, though with gentlest art:
I loved her, though I went astray,
And almost broke her faithful heart.
And then I left her, and in tears—
These could not move my hardened breast!
I wandered, and for weary years
I sought for bliss, but found no rest.
I sought—yet ever sought in vain—
To find the peace, the joy of youth:
At last, I turned me back again,
And found them with my faithful Truth.