Thou gilded phantom of the cheated brain,
Through days and nights of long-successive years
We follow thee—through sunshine and through tears,
With beating hearts and eager eyes, in vain
We wait thy coming! now thou art anear,
And now afar-off straying, and again
Dost give as something of thy bliss to feel,
That we, contrasting thy sweet self and pain,
Might know thee worthy all our woes to heal.
Thou art the essence of a joy supreme,