Page:Over the river, and other poems.djvu/65

Rh When wealth and fame seem dancing on before, And every gloomy shadow falls behind! But, as we near the summit of life's hill, The sweet-voiced sirens lure us on no more, And as tales to the churchyard still The ever-lengthening shadows fall before. Alas for childhood's fairy dreams of hope! Alas that they were naught but an ideal! That we must dash aside her pleasant cup To drain the bitter chalice of the Real. And yet the heart grows stronger with each trial; And e'en the bitter conflict in the soul, Each thrill of pain, each hard, stern self-denial, May help us on towards the spirit-goal. And yet to poet-minds how dark and dreary This rough and thorny path of life appears !