Go, go, thy heart is still thine own,
Go, taste of joy and gladness;
I fondly dreamt that heart mine own,
To hope so now were madness.
Many a mortal yet will woo thee,
Many a lover trust that smile,
But, if well as I they knew thee,
Few thy beauty would beguile.
Like the merchant who has ventured
All his fortune on the sea,
So in thee my hopes were center’d,
Destin’d soon a wreck to be.
Then fare-thee-well, we meet no more
Better had we never met;
Thou hast many joys in store,
I have none—my sun is set.
S.
“PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE.”
Extemporaneous Lines, written to oblige a young Friend, who suggested the Topic.
The PAST, which once was present, then did seem,
As doth this present, but “a sick man’s dream.”
Now, the remembrance of that past appears,
Through the dim distance of receding years,
A lovely vision of fair forms:—and yet,
How different it was! Fool! to regret
What had no being! Time, that faithful tutor,
Were I but teachable, might show the FUTURE
As the PRESENT is; and yet I paint it
Teeming with joy; and my hope doth saint it,
With haloes round the fond imagination.
And so through life I pass—without a station
Whence I can see the present, a reality
To be enjoy’d—living on ideality.