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A RICH MAN'S REVERIE.
Mary, we have been parted long,You were proud, and we both were wrong,But 'tis over and past, no living gleamCan come again to the dear, dead dream.It is dead, so let it lie,But nothing, nothing can ever beLike that old dream to you or to me.
I think we shall know, shall know at last,All that was strange in all the past,Shall one day know, and shall haply seeThat the sorrows and ills, that with tears and sighs,We vainly endeavored to flee,Were angels who, veiled in sorrow's guiseCame to us only to bless.Maybe we shall kneel and kiss their feet,With grateful tears, when we shall meetTheir unveiled faces, pure and sweet,Their eyes' deep tenderness.We shall know, perchance, had these angels comeLike mendieants unto a kingly gateWhen we sat in joy's royal state,We had barred them from our home.But when in our doorway one appearsClothed in the purple of sorrow's power,He will enter in, no prayers or tearsAvail us in that hour.
