Oh! love is all too like the visions of a dream.
It boots not now to ponder o'er the past,
Joy blasted oft will mar life's fairest scene;
The beauty of the sky is overcast,
Dark clouds now brood where brightness late hath been;
And thorns appear where once sweet flowers were seen.
Yet hope beams on my soul her soothing light,
Like the first dawning of the morn serene,
Tinging my darkened soul with hues more bright—
Love ever sorrow brings, as twilight brings the night.