Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments III.pdf/22



Ah! never another dream can be   Like that early dream of ours, When Hope, like a child, lay down to sleep Amid the folded flowers.

But Hope has wakened since, and wept Itself, like a rainbow, away; And the flowers have faded, and fallen around, We have none for a wreath to-day.

Now, Truth has taken the place of Hope, And our hearts are like winter hours; Little has after life been worth That early dream of ours.