DREAMS OF THE LIVING.Nogolden dreams, near quiet streams,On swelling slopes, no high-reached hopes;These of themselves are mute:The spirit wakes, the fancies shootWhere Nature points, but sheThought curbs, not renders free,Unless her portals wide she opes,And gives of Truth the fruit.And man, a dreamer from his youth,Ne'er knoweth, nor can know, the truth,Save when Religion with its lightShines on his mind, to guide his sight.From every day that dawns, he claimsNew thoughts, new fancies, and new aims,That lead to nothing, nothing leave,But vague ideas that deceive!Boyhood is dreaming, when it quitsSubstantial joys for counterfeits;Courts pleasure as a lasting thing,Nor deems it bears a hidden sting;And yields all feeling and all sense,For hopes that bring no recompense.Well, when its follies it forsakes,And from its feverish dreams awakes!The loveliness of woman givesMore cause for dreams than aught that lives;And youth, when it aspires to findGladness in beauty, wanting mind,Like guileless child, is ever dreamingOf joy and brightness only seeming;And knows not, till the dream is past,What spells around the heart are cast.And manhood dreams,—when o'er the soulAmbition has secured control,—Of power, and wealth, and worldly state,And all the splendours of the great:Builds monuments, to which decayClings as a resting-place and prey,Nor thinks how weak are all his pains,When nothing at the last remains.And age, that ought to know the best,Is but a dreamer like the rest;O'erlooking, in its downward pace,The landmarks of its upward race;No wisdom from the past it earns,And from the present only learnsTo dread the future; and its staffWrites its own weary epitaph.What dream they of? Earth, with its feelings cold,Its passions withered, tales that have been told,And generations dead—the same dull toneThat from the chambers of the past hath gone,Is echoed now; but, as before, its strain,For warning, or for teaching, is in vain!And hearts on which has come the early blight,And hopes that never knew aught here but slight,And scattered flowers, and blossoms tossed and shaken,And promises foregone, and trusts forsaken,Still show men's visions false, but still they cherishDreams of the earth, which only lure to perish.No glow of life, no ante-taste of heaven,From sordid earth-born thoughts like theirs is given;But disappointment, with its lagging trainOf blighted prospects, tells that all is vain;Yet to this earth's allurements fixed, the heart,Like a wrecked vessel, drifts, without a chart.Truth teaches higher hopes, and better things,And o'er the mind a lasting solace brings.Oh! that the soul on Heaven were ever bent,And all its feelings thitherward were sent!Then would our visions from the world arise,Clear as the sun, and radiant as the skies:Visions of light and love that ne'er decay,No strifes to scare, no terrors to dismay;But peace, unchanging as the Christian's faith—Peace in our life, untroubled hope in death!
Nogolden dreams, near quiet streams,On swelling slopes, no high-reached hopes;These of themselves are mute:The spirit wakes, the fancies shootWhere Nature points, but sheThought curbs, not renders free,Unless her portals wide she opes,And gives of Truth the fruit.And man, a dreamer from his youth,Ne'er knoweth, nor can know, the truth,Save when Religion with its lightShines on his mind, to guide his sight.From every day that dawns, he claimsNew thoughts, new fancies, and new aims,That lead to nothing, nothing leave,But vague ideas that deceive!Boyhood is dreaming, when it quitsSubstantial joys for counterfeits;Courts pleasure as a lasting thing,Nor deems it bears a hidden sting;And yields all feeling and all sense,For hopes that bring no recompense.Well, when its follies it forsakes,And from its feverish dreams awakes!The loveliness of woman givesMore cause for dreams than aught that lives;And youth, when it aspires to findGladness in beauty, wanting mind,Like guileless child, is ever dreamingOf joy and brightness only seeming;And knows not, till the dream is past,What spells around the heart are cast.And manhood dreams,—when o'er the soulAmbition has secured control,—Of power, and wealth, and worldly state,And all the splendours of the great:Builds monuments, to which decayClings as a resting-place and prey,Nor thinks how weak are all his pains,When nothing at the last remains.And age, that ought to know the best,Is but a dreamer like the rest;O'erlooking, in its downward pace,The landmarks of its upward race;No wisdom from the past it earns,And from the present only learnsTo dread the future; and its staffWrites its own weary epitaph.What dream they of? Earth, with its feelings cold,Its passions withered, tales that have been told,And generations dead—the same dull toneThat from the chambers of the past hath gone,Is echoed now; but, as before, its strain,For warning, or for teaching, is in vain!And hearts on which has come the early blight,And hopes that never knew aught here but slight,And scattered flowers, and blossoms tossed and shaken,And promises foregone, and trusts forsaken,Still show men's visions false, but still they cherishDreams of the earth, which only lure to perish.No glow of life, no ante-taste of heaven,From sordid earth-born thoughts like theirs is given;But disappointment, with its lagging trainOf blighted prospects, tells that all is vain;Yet to this earth's allurements fixed, the heart,Like a wrecked vessel, drifts, without a chart.Truth teaches higher hopes, and better things,And o'er the mind a lasting solace brings.Oh! that the soul on Heaven were ever bent,And all its feelings thitherward were sent!Then would our visions from the world arise,Clear as the sun, and radiant as the skies:Visions of light and love that ne'er decay,No strifes to scare, no terrors to dismay;But peace, unchanging as the Christian's faith—Peace in our life, untroubled hope in death!
Nogolden dreams, near quiet streams,On swelling slopes, no high-reached hopes;These of themselves are mute:The spirit wakes, the fancies shootWhere Nature points, but sheThought curbs, not renders free,Unless her portals wide she opes,And gives of Truth the fruit.And man, a dreamer from his youth,Ne'er knoweth, nor can know, the truth,Save when Religion with its lightShines on his mind, to guide his sight.From every day that dawns, he claimsNew thoughts, new fancies, and new aims,That lead to nothing, nothing leave,But vague ideas that deceive!Boyhood is dreaming, when it quitsSubstantial joys for counterfeits;Courts pleasure as a lasting thing,Nor deems it bears a hidden sting;And yields all feeling and all sense,For hopes that bring no recompense.Well, when its follies it forsakes,And from its feverish dreams awakes!The loveliness of woman givesMore cause for dreams than aught that lives;And youth, when it aspires to findGladness in beauty, wanting mind,Like guileless child, is ever dreamingOf joy and brightness only seeming;And knows not, till the dream is past,What spells around the heart are cast.And manhood dreams,—when o'er the soulAmbition has secured control,—Of power, and wealth, and worldly state,And all the splendours of the great:Builds monuments, to which decayClings as a resting-place and prey,Nor thinks how weak are all his pains,When nothing at the last remains.And age, that ought to know the best,Is but a dreamer like the rest;O'erlooking, in its downward pace,The landmarks of its upward race;No wisdom from the past it earns,And from the present only learnsTo dread the future; and its staffWrites its own weary epitaph.What dream they of? Earth, with its feelings cold,Its passions withered, tales that have been told,And generations dead—the same dull toneThat from the chambers of the past hath gone,Is echoed now; but, as before, its strain,For warning, or for teaching, is in vain!And hearts on which has come the early blight,And hopes that never knew aught here but slight,And scattered flowers, and blossoms tossed and shaken,And promises foregone, and trusts forsaken,Still show men's visions false, but still they cherishDreams of the earth, which only lure to perish.No glow of life, no ante-taste of heaven,From sordid earth-born thoughts like theirs is given;But disappointment, with its lagging trainOf blighted prospects, tells that all is vain;Yet to this earth's allurements fixed, the heart,Like a wrecked vessel, drifts, without a chart.Truth teaches higher hopes, and better things,And o'er the mind a lasting solace brings.Oh! that the soul on Heaven were ever bent,And all its feelings thitherward were sent!Then would our visions from the world arise,Clear as the sun, and radiant as the skies:Visions of light and love that ne'er decay,No strifes to scare, no terrors to dismay;But peace, unchanging as the Christian's faith—Peace in our life, untroubled hope in death!
Nogolden dreams, near quiet streams,On swelling slopes, no high-reached hopes;These of themselves are mute:The spirit wakes, the fancies shootWhere Nature points, but sheThought curbs, not renders free,Unless her portals wide she opes,And gives of Truth the fruit.
Nogolden dreams, near quiet streams,
On swelling slopes, no high-reached hopes;
These of themselves are mute:
The spirit wakes, the fancies shoot
Where Nature points, but she
Thought curbs, not renders free,
Unless her portals wide she opes,
And gives of Truth the fruit.
And man, a dreamer from his youth,Ne'er knoweth, nor can know, the truth,Save when Religion with its lightShines on his mind, to guide his sight.From every day that dawns, he claimsNew thoughts, new fancies, and new aims,That lead to nothing, nothing leave,But vague ideas that deceive!
And man, a dreamer from his youth,
Ne'er knoweth, nor can know, the truth,
Save when Religion with its light
Shines on his mind, to guide his sight.
From every day that dawns, he claims
New thoughts, new fancies, and new aims,
That lead to nothing, nothing leave,
But vague ideas that deceive!
Boyhood is dreaming, when it quitsSubstantial joys for counterfeits;Courts pleasure as a lasting thing,Nor deems it bears a hidden sting;And yields all feeling and all sense,For hopes that bring no recompense.Well, when its follies it forsakes,And from its feverish dreams awakes!
Boyhood is dreaming, when it quits
Substantial joys for counterfeits;
Courts pleasure as a lasting thing,
Nor deems it bears a hidden sting;
And yields all feeling and all sense,
For hopes that bring no recompense.
Well, when its follies it forsakes,
And from its feverish dreams awakes!
The loveliness of woman givesMore cause for dreams than aught that lives;And youth, when it aspires to findGladness in beauty, wanting mind,Like guileless child, is ever dreamingOf joy and brightness only seeming;And knows not, till the dream is past,What spells around the heart are cast.
The loveliness of woman gives
More cause for dreams than aught that lives;
And youth, when it aspires to find
Gladness in beauty, wanting mind,
Like guileless child, is ever dreaming
Of joy and brightness only seeming;
And knows not, till the dream is past,
What spells around the heart are cast.
And manhood dreams,—when o'er the soulAmbition has secured control,—Of power, and wealth, and worldly state,And all the splendours of the great:Builds monuments, to which decayClings as a resting-place and prey,Nor thinks how weak are all his pains,When nothing at the last remains.
And manhood dreams,—when o'er the soul
Ambition has secured control,—
Of power, and wealth, and worldly state,
And all the splendours of the great:
Builds monuments, to which decay
Clings as a resting-place and prey,
Nor thinks how weak are all his pains,
When nothing at the last remains.
And age, that ought to know the best,Is but a dreamer like the rest;O'erlooking, in its downward pace,The landmarks of its upward race;No wisdom from the past it earns,And from the present only learnsTo dread the future; and its staffWrites its own weary epitaph.
And age, that ought to know the best,
Is but a dreamer like the rest;
O'erlooking, in its downward pace,
The landmarks of its upward race;
No wisdom from the past it earns,
And from the present only learns
To dread the future; and its staff
Writes its own weary epitaph.
What dream they of? Earth, with its feelings cold,Its passions withered, tales that have been told,And generations dead—the same dull toneThat from the chambers of the past hath gone,Is echoed now; but, as before, its strain,For warning, or for teaching, is in vain!
What dream they of? Earth, with its feelings cold,
Its passions withered, tales that have been told,
And generations dead—the same dull tone
That from the chambers of the past hath gone,
Is echoed now; but, as before, its strain,
For warning, or for teaching, is in vain!
And hearts on which has come the early blight,And hopes that never knew aught here but slight,And scattered flowers, and blossoms tossed and shaken,And promises foregone, and trusts forsaken,Still show men's visions false, but still they cherishDreams of the earth, which only lure to perish.
And hearts on which has come the early blight,
And hopes that never knew aught here but slight,
And scattered flowers, and blossoms tossed and shaken,
And promises foregone, and trusts forsaken,
Still show men's visions false, but still they cherish
Dreams of the earth, which only lure to perish.
No glow of life, no ante-taste of heaven,From sordid earth-born thoughts like theirs is given;But disappointment, with its lagging trainOf blighted prospects, tells that all is vain;Yet to this earth's allurements fixed, the heart,Like a wrecked vessel, drifts, without a chart.Truth teaches higher hopes, and better things,And o'er the mind a lasting solace brings.
No glow of life, no ante-taste of heaven,
From sordid earth-born thoughts like theirs is given;
But disappointment, with its lagging train
Of blighted prospects, tells that all is vain;
Yet to this earth's allurements fixed, the heart,
Like a wrecked vessel, drifts, without a chart.
Truth teaches higher hopes, and better things,
And o'er the mind a lasting solace brings.
Oh! that the soul on Heaven were ever bent,And all its feelings thitherward were sent!Then would our visions from the world arise,Clear as the sun, and radiant as the skies:Visions of light and love that ne'er decay,No strifes to scare, no terrors to dismay;But peace, unchanging as the Christian's faith—Peace in our life, untroubled hope in death!
Oh! that the soul on Heaven were ever bent,
And all its feelings thitherward were sent!
Then would our visions from the world arise,
Clear as the sun, and radiant as the skies:
Visions of light and love that ne'er decay,
No strifes to scare, no terrors to dismay;
But peace, unchanging as the Christian's faith—
Peace in our life, untroubled hope in death!