Poems (Schiller)/Dreaming

by Rebecca Jane Schiller

For works with similar titles, see Dreaming.

DREAMING

'Tis evening; the pale moon is gleaming
 Far up in the starry sky;
And I, in the darkness am dreaming,
 Of years that have flitted by.

I sit with my weary hands folded,
 And gaze at the flames as they glow;
'Till I fancy the embers are moulded,
 In forms that I loved long ago.

Fair memory points to the hours,
 That knew not of sorrow and strife;
When palm trees, and fountains and flowers,
 Made goodly the scenes of my life.

But oh! there's an end to life's Elim,
 For sorrow must come to us all;
The palm and the flowers will wither,
 The fountains will turn into gall.

But hope with pearly white fingers,
 Points away to the land of the blest;
And fondly my sad heart lingers,
 On the promise of future rest.

Ere long I shall enter the portals,
 Where God in His fullness is known;
And join with star-crowned immortals,
 In worship before His throne.
March 9, 1868.