ILLUSIONS
I STOOPED to drink of Life’s enchanted stream,
From fair green meads and flowery marge of youth,
Athirst for love, for fame, and sight of truth,
And, dreaming as I drank, all life did seem
Fair as the pageant of a lover’s dream,
That hides the grim and sordid world uncouth;
Till Time and change came by that know not ruth,
And grief was left to watch Hope’s flickering beam.
So from the bitter world I turned again,
To work, to sleep; but as in sleep I lay,
Truth touched me, and Hope said to me, “Arise!”
Whom, waking, I beheld as visions vain
As dream-beguiled one looks with clouded eyes
Upon the breaking morn, nor knows it is the day.