Dreams

What dreams we have and how they fly
Like rosy clouds across the sky;
          Of wealth, of fame, of sure success,
          Of love that comes to cheer and bless;
And how they wither, how they fade,
The waning wealth, the jilting jade —
          The fame that for a moment gleams,
          Then flies forever, —dreams, ah —dreams!

O burning doubt and long regret
O tears with which our eyes are wet,
          Heart-throbs, heart-aches, the glut of pain,
          The somber cloud, the bitter rain,
You were not of those dreams — ah! well,
Your full fruition who can tell?
          Wealth, fame, and love, ah! love that beams
          Upon our souls, all dreams — ah! dreams.