Yet, though still my days were peaceful, Yearnings of my heart and brain

Made the hidden life within me

Half a joy and half a pain.

VII.

Happiest days, when first my darling Clasped me fondly to his breast, And I heard, with sweet contentment, All his burning love confessed;

When the chaos of its passions

Ceased to vex this heart of mine,

Whilst, 'midst music of emotions,
Came the form of Love divine.

Yes, like music sweetly sounding
O'er a troubled sea, at rest,
Came a calm, when Love his pinions
Softly folded in my breast,—

Like the dew of even, falling
Slowly o'er a thirsty land;

Or the waves of ocean, breaking
Gently on a distant strand;

Like the sound of falling waters,
On a hot and sultry day;

Or of Zephyr, in the forest,

With the rustling leaves at play.

Then life's noblest aspirations

Rose within my raptured soul, And there seemed to lie before me Something worthy as its goal;

Climbing, ever upward climbing,

Towards celestial peaks of light;

Cheering, counselling each other,
In a brave and noble fight.

*

Ah! 'twas but a bright ideal,

Glowing, noble, true, and high;

But a pure and bright ideal,

Earth can seldom satisfy;

But a heavenward aspiration
Of the godlike soul within;
But a bright celestial vision,

Breaking through the clouds of sin.

Yes! I built my airy castles,

And, like others, built them high; Built them till their highest turrets Lost themselves beyond the sky.

And, like builders oft before me,
On the shifting shores of Time,
Found them based upon destruction,
Bonded with untempered lime.

For ourselves are but the mortar, Bonding blocks that build our lives;

And the mortar, truly tempered,

Bonds the castle that survives.

And, I long had lain untempered,
In a false and foolish school;
And, in building lofty castles,
I but laboured as a fool.

So, when storms of fate descended, By the blasts of Fortune blown, Shattered from their false foundations, Were my castles overthrown.

*

Too, too soon, my dream was ended; But, in dreams, it haunts me now; And I wake in fevered anguish, Sleeping-traitor to my vow.

Yet, 'tis well that once I dreamed it—
Felt the rapture it could give;
For my sorrow soon hath taught me,

Not to love, is not to live.

And, tho' mingled shame and anguish Mar that dream I ne'er forget; That once I loved, and, loving, lived,

Still with rapture crowns regret.

VIII.

Often, waking to my sorrow,

In the morning, damp and chill,

Have I wished the joys of dreamland
Life's remaining years could fill.

And I trust that Time's impressions,
In the stainless life above,

Are but blissful dreams eternal:

Dreams of pureness, truth, and love;

Dreams, without earth's sins and sorrows, Where its tears are wiped away,

And its fondest recollections

'Midst the chords of memory play;

Dreams, that for the shrived and pardoned
Can alone be bright and fair ;

Dreams, that are but pictured memories
Of this life of sin and care.