Speak gently, tread lightly—I’m dreaming now,
And the soft light of Hope gilds my upturned brow,
While brightly love-phantoms before me shine,
And joy’s festal garlands around me entwine.
Light carols the Future—I echo its lay,
And am happy and glad as a young child at play.
Speak softly and low:—Though I’m dreaming now,
A shade from the past presses cold on my brow:
I list for loved voices—they greet not mine ear;
And I watch—all in vain—for the forms once so dear.