Page:Poems Greenwood.djvu/22

My dreams, my dreams,—would they might come
To all like voices from their home!
Like cool, bland breezes at mid-day,
Wafting sweet breathings on their way,
That tell us where the violet springs,—
Like birds with sunshine on their wings,
Like the glad laugh of morning rills,
Like the first day-beams o'er the hills,
Like the first stars when twilight closes,
Like the first blush of summer roses,—
Like all things pure, and bright, and gay,
That lure awhile the soul away
From care, and grief, and feverish strife,
And make the heart in love with life!

Some lays there are seem only sent
To add to passion's blandishment,
 Or wing the creeping hours
Of souls to lifeless ease resigned,
In dreamy languidness reclined
 On pleasure's couch of flowers.
And some are like exotics rare,
Found blooming in the still, soft air
 Of pride and luxury only;
And some like priceless, burning gems,
Set in imperial diadems,