Till, unknowing pain or agony, I’ve wept such blissful tears
As shall never, never flow again ’mid darker later years!
V.
I am dreaming, I am dreaming of the bright ones that are gone,
The gifted and the beautiful, from Time’s sad wasting flown,
Of those beings pure and gentle, like the passing glow of even,
Sent to teach us of a better, higher heritage in Heaven!
Sweet they were as first wild flowers that herald coming spring,
Or a mellow gleam of sunset through the storm-cloud’s raven wing.
Fragile as that opening flower, fleeting as that golden ray,