Vague and unreal are the dreams of youth; Yet to each eager heart the veriest truth: Each out-drawn thread so tenderly inwove With golden fibres of the heart's pure love, So firm and strong its silken tissues seem, We cannot think we do but idly dream. Unbidden from the past come trooping by Sweet pictured forms in glowing imagery,— Of fancies, feelings so unlike our own,— Another self outlived, or life outgrown. Gorgeous and glowing are the colors there; Beauty and freshness blend in visions rare, On which we love to look; while, at our side. We see the misty drapery removed From phantom idols tenderly beloved; While eager hands are reaching to enclasp The floating castles just beyond their grasp. Such airy wonders! tinged with every hue Which makes the rainbow beautiful to view. And yet they fade, and leave the hard, stern real, So little like our wonderful ideal; And we the truth, ere long, unwilling learn, The somber present seems each thought to chide. Their glowing colors never will return! Now, looking back, we take from memory's shelves These broken toys, and wonder at ourselves; Wonder at all the freaks of Time and Change, Their shadows round us fall so cold and strange. And O, how strong the yearning to bring forth Youth's roseate hues to deck again the earth! Alas! how hard to check the gathering tears, When, looking back through intervening years, We brush away the dust of care and pain, And try to find our joyous hearts again! The warmth and sunlight seem forever fled, Leaving but clouds and shadows there instead. In youth, we turn the dross to gold, with magic wand: Where now we garner, with unskillful hand, The thorns and briers which gather in our way. We cannot skip them by in childish play; They cling to us and pierce our weary feet, Till rest and peace seem but an echo sweet From some quaint song, some half-forgotten strain, Mingled with saddest tones of grief and pain. Who has not, sometime, knowing well how vain, Sighed to live o'er life's sunniest hours again? And yet, how soon such useless thoughts are gone; And we are looking upward, toiling on Toward something higher, better, more sublime, Opening before us in life's golden time.
All time is glorious, if well improved, If right and equity are truly loved. And what is grander than a soul divine? For lofty principles a sacred shrine; By mean devices never idly swayed; But ever moving onward, undismayed By seeming failure, malice, fraud or spite; Trusting in God that He will guard the right. To such, his loving truths sweetly appeal, And holier visions to their sight reveal Of all his wonder-working ways—a life With joy and peace unbounded, ever rife. Yes, if our hearts are brave and true and strong, We shall find sweetest sunlight all along Life's pathway. We must work and win A certain conquest over wrong and sin; Then shall the pure light of God's love divine Make the rough places with rare glory shine. His love ineffable! O how it fills The soul with rapture, and distills The pearly dew of peace and holy trust Upon the desolate and arid waste Of human life; till fragrant flowers bloom Even around the death-bed and the tomb!
