Poems (Argent)/Abandoned Dreams
ABANDONED DREAMS.
THE sunny heights and golden dreams That light the path of fameAre mine no more—I do not crave As once I craved a name. Ah! no, those spires and temples shineFor other brows than these of mine.
The sad unrest of weary hours And thoughts all ill expressed,Which once held thraldom sore and deep Within mine inmost breast,Is past, and now a summer reignOf peace and love is mine again.
The fiery blood of youth's brief day, Its transient joys and woes,That quiver at each fitful breeze That o'er it sweeps and blows,Now in the tract of Time's great seaSleep quiet till eternity.
I ask not now that I be great In learning, as of yore,In classic art or ideal grace,— That beauteous dream is o'er.I only pray my womanhoodBe crowned by being pure and good.
Nor do I long, as most have longed, For one dear life to blessTheir own with tenderest human ties. That dream of lovelinessHas faded like the mists away;For such, I may not, dare not, pray.
For now a wider sphere is mine In doing all I can,To bring some daily kindnesses Into the heart of man;How best to learn to serve and waitThe beggar at the rich man's gate.
So fair and peaceful flow the years, Like some pure river bright,Winding serenely to the deeps Of love's celestial light.The mountain heights seem touched with snow,The valleys keep the warm soft glow.
Thus calmly as the setting sun, Within the roseate west,Sinks peacefully at close of day, So may my spirit rest,—And my life's sun as sweetly glideInto the light of eventide!