Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1826.pdf/29



No more, no more, why should I dream Dreams that I know are vain? Why trust the future, when the past I would not live again?

Affection,—'tis the glittering wealth Of snow-work in the sun; Pleasure,—the rocket's shining course, Ended ere well begun.

Hope, the false music, luring where The syren Sorrow dwells; And Praise a very mockery, The chime of the fool's bells.

And yet, alas! for the fond time When I believed all this,— Although 'twas nothing but a dream, At least the dream was bliss.

The heart is like those fairy rings, Where all of green has died; Yet there, they say, the fairy race By moonlight wont to ride.

We hold to that gay creed no more— Gone is the elfin reign; Yet, surely, such fair visions fled Is more of loss than gain.

But thus it is, as years pass on, Even with our own heart; We see the visions, one by one, Of early youth depart.

We gaze around—all is the same O'er which our young eye ranged; But—sorrow for the heart and eye!— Ourselves, ourselves are changed. L. E. L.