 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
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THE WARNING.
Affection my pathway with roses was wreathing,
They whispered—“To-morrow will banish their bloom;”
Fair Hope in my ear a sweet burden was breathing,
They said—“'Twill be hushed in Reality's gloom!”
They whispered—“To-morrow will banish their bloom;”
Fair Hope in my ear a sweet burden was breathing,
They said—“'Twill be hushed in Reality's gloom!”
A day-dream of joy in my young heart was glowing—
“Alas!” said the warner, “not long will it shine!”
Gay fairy-like Fancy, the future was showing,—
“The vision,” they murmured, “is false as divine!”
“Alas!” said the warner, “not long will it shine!”
Gay fairy-like Fancy, the future was showing,—
“The vision,” they murmured, “is false as divine!”
Ah! if love and life be but a dream, a delusion,
And the cold future bright but in Fancy's glad eye;
Still, still let me live in the blessed illusion,
And, trusting the falsehood, hope on till I die!
And the cold future bright but in Fancy's glad eye;
Still, still let me live in the blessed illusion,
And, trusting the falsehood, hope on till I die!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |