Poems (Argent)/Abandoned Dreams

by Alice Emily Argent

ABANDONED DREAMS.

THE sunny heights and golden dreams
 That light the path of fame
Are mine no more—I do not crave
 As once I craved a name.
Ah! no, those spires and temples shine
For 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 reign
Of 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 sea
Sleep 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 womanhood
Be crowned by being pure and good.

Nor do I long, as most have longed,
 For one dear life to bless
Their own with tenderest human ties.
 That dream of loveliness
Has 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 wait
The 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 glide
Into the light of eventide!