Poems (Procter)/A Castle in the Air
A CASTLE IN THE AIR.
BUILT myself a castle, So noble, grand and fair;I built myself a castle, A castle—in the air.The fancies of my twilights That fade in sober truth,The longing of my sorrow, And the vision of my youth;
The plans of joyful futures; So dear they used to seem;The prayer that rose unbidden, Half prayer—and half a dream;
The hopes that died unuttered Within this heart of mine;—For all these tender treasures My castle was the shrine.
I looked at all the castles That rise to grace the land,But I never saw another So stately or so grand.
And now you see it shattered, My castle in the air;It lies, a dreary ruin, All desolate and bare.
I cannot build another, I saw that one decay;And strength and heart and courage Died out the self-same day.
Yet still, beside that ruin, With hopes as deep and fond,I waited with an infinite longing, Only—I look beyond.