. Dreams and realities . d down; there were buttwo, Walking with fated feet and thinking notOf past or future, while life onward flew. No words were needed in that land of dreams; A glance of the eye, the clasp of a dear handWas language all sufficient, for it seems The heart such language can best understand. Holding your hands, I read your very soul—Read, and dreamed not that I could read itwrong; Looked in your eyes, and saw the lovelight gleam,And all my heart burst into floods of song. Twas oer, I woke, the blissful dream was is a common lot, and light of day AN HOUR IN EDEN. 12
. Dreams and realities . d down; there were buttwo, Walking with fated feet and thinking notOf past or future, while life onward flew. No words were needed in that land of dreams; A glance of the eye, the clasp of a dear handWas language all sufficient, for it seems The heart such language can best understand. Holding your hands, I read your very soul—Read, and dreamed not that I could read itwrong; Looked in your eyes, and saw the lovelight gleam,And all my heart burst into floods of song. Twas oer, I woke, the blissful dream was is a common lot, and light of day AN HOUR IN EDEN. 125 Took all the roseate colors from my dream,Yet we all live in Eden once, they say. Once more my ship goes rushing down lifesstream; Once more the surging billows round me the hour in Edens but a dream, And leaveth but a memory to the soul. But though the storms of Fate may fret lifes sea,And my frail ship may anchor nevermore, I never can forget that glorious nightWhen I cast anchor by fair Edens WISHING. TELL me, redbird, tell me true,If I wish and look at you,Will the future bring to meJust the things I long to see ? Is there hidden neath your wing-Power, my hearts desire to bring ?If so, do your very best,Birdie with the crimson breast. I am lonely here to-day—One I love is far across the miles and bring,Hidden safely neath your wing, A dear message fond and sweetFrom the one I long to me that dear heart is true,And Ill think no bird like you. IN A SPANISH PRISON.[A dream.] g LOWLY the silvery moonbeams are fallingOer an old castle built by the main—Where the lone waves to each other are calling,In the far-away kingdom of Spain. Lonely the place, and the hour more lonely,Silence complete, save the waves on the shore, Which in their wild sobbing seemed to say only:Free nevermore, free nevermore. Slowly the moonbeams go timidly creepingInto deep nooks with black shadows hung. Into the gloom of that dark place of weepingLike a s
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