Hah! for the throng or proud thoughts that rush,
Reckless and riotous—why should they be
Iced by thy frown, Reality?
Give, give me back the early joy
Of youth’s warm hopes, of vows believed—
Again, again a dreaming boy
Let me be happy—though deceived.
Friendship,
they say, is but a name,
And woman’s love a meteor flame,