 | The heir of the world, and lesser poems |  |
164
MORALITIES.
The youthful heart is heir to wealth
That years can never tell;
The youthful soul does deeds by stealth
That might in triumph swell—
The thought that thrills a generous mind
Oft dies upon the wing,
And bosoms feeling, fond and kind,
Writhe oft 'neath torture's sting.
That years can never tell;
The youthful soul does deeds by stealth
That might in triumph swell—
The thought that thrills a generous mind
Oft dies upon the wing,
And bosoms feeling, fond and kind,
Writhe oft 'neath torture's sting.
Gay hope, the night-fire of the brain,
Allures the heart to wo
With beams, that pleasure lends to pain
This faithless world to show;
And we are sped on life's lone way
By gilded goading spears,
While flitting fancy's meteor ray
Emblazons misery's tears.
Allures the heart to wo
With beams, that pleasure lends to pain
This faithless world to show;
And we are sped on life's lone way
By gilded goading spears,
While flitting fancy's meteor ray
Emblazons misery's tears.
The deepest woes we feel below,
The wildest throes of pain,
From our own fond illusions flow,
When sanguine passions reign;
For guileful flattery sooths the heart
That malice turns to sting,
And love, full oft, o'er ruin's dart
Its vermil veil will fling.
The wildest throes of pain,
From our own fond illusions flow,
When sanguine passions reign;
For guileful flattery sooths the heart
That malice turns to sting,
And love, full oft, o'er ruin's dart
Its vermil veil will fling.
Anticipations ever glow
In self-delusion's light,
While sorrow's tear and misery's throe
Sublime the heart's delight;
As silver clouds in fleecy wreaths
A summer sunbeam shade,
When breezy music softly breathes
Along the waving glade.
In self-delusion's light,
While sorrow's tear and misery's throe
Sublime the heart's delight;
165
A summer sunbeam shade,
When breezy music softly breathes
Along the waving glade.
Darkness, disease and doubt will blight
The fairest dreams of bliss,
And rapture plunge, in sorrow's night,
To agony's abyss;
The fairy frost-work of an hour
Dissolves in misery's flame,
And false and vain are pomp and power,
And fleeting as a name.
The fairest dreams of bliss,
And rapture plunge, in sorrow's night,
To agony's abyss;
The fairy frost-work of an hour
Dissolves in misery's flame,
And false and vain are pomp and power,
And fleeting as a name.
| The heir of the world, and lesser poems | |