Stones from The Quarry | ||
142
YOUTH'S ILLUSIONS.
Upon the threshold, hand upon the door,In eager attitude of straining eye
And listening ear, as if by harmony
Rapt from within, and glories there in store,
A-tiptoe, pauses a bright form, before
She turns the handle; lest the mystery
Should disappoint, the radiant vision fly,
And fade in commonplace for evermore!
So Psyche saw her Cupid; saw and lost!
'Tis Hope upon Life's threshold, heart on fire;
Fire that, soon cooled down, scarce thaws the frost
At heart fulfilled or unfulfilled desire
Alike must bring! Alas! of Truth the cost
She knows not; Truth deceives too like a liar!
Stones from The Quarry | ||