 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE HARMLESS LUXURY.
Her skies, of whom I sing, are hung
With sad clouds, dropping saddest tears;
Yet some white days, like pearls, are strung
Upon the dark thread of her years.
With sad clouds, dropping saddest tears;
Yet some white days, like pearls, are strung
Upon the dark thread of her years.
And as remembrance turns to slip
Through fingers fond the treasures rare,
Ever her thankful heart and lip
Run over into song and prayer.
Through fingers fond the treasures rare,
Ever her thankful heart and lip
Run over into song and prayer.
With joys more exquisite and deep
Than hers, she knows this good world teems,
Yet only asks that she may keep
The harmless luxury of dreams.
Than hers, she knows this good world teems,
Yet only asks that she may keep
The harmless luxury of dreams.
Thankful that, though her life has lost
The best it hoped, the best it willed,
Her sweetest dream has not been crossed,
Or worse—but only half fulfilled.
The best it hoped, the best it willed,
Her sweetest dream has not been crossed,
Or worse—but only half fulfilled.
And that beside her still, to wile
Her thought from sad and sober truth,
Are Hope and Fancy, all the while
Feeding her heart's eternal youth.
Her thought from sad and sober truth,
Are Hope and Fancy, all the while
Feeding her heart's eternal youth.
And who shall say that they who close
Their eyes to Hope and Fancy's beams,
Are living truer lives than those,
The dreamers, who believe their dreams
Their eyes to Hope and Fancy's beams,
Are living truer lives than those,
The dreamers, who believe their dreams
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |