'Tis o'er, thy dream; his ways and thine divide,
The sterile plains of memory grow more wide;
Love claims its own, and thou must pay the cost—
A dark-orbed maid has won what thou hast lost.
O Love, that blossoms on the desert sands
As sweet as in the richly gilded room,
That knows no age and blesses in all lands,
And strews upon the world its lovely bloom,
Where spring the fountains of thy mystic brew
That thrills alike the peasant maid and queen,
That flowers hearts with drops of wondrous dew
On gale-swept shores, as where the roses dream?
HEART'S DESIRE
Give me the breath of dewy morns,
The stirring chase, the hunter's horns,
The scent of roses 'mid the thorns
In all their beauty dreaming.
Give me the shining fields so sweet,
Where sun and shadow love to meet;
The sickles swinging through the wheat,
While golden sunlight's streaming.
Give me the flower-jewelled hills—
A love-song that with rapture thrills,
That lifts the heart above earth's ills,
And gives to life new meaning.
Give me the hush of quiet eves,
The sleepy note amid the leaves,
God's calm, sweet slumber that relieves,
While starry lamps are gleaming.
Give me a woman sweet and true
To have and hold life's journey through,
And love like sunshine ever new
In bright eyes softly beaming.