Dreaming of kindlier, warmer suns,
⁠Dreaming of happier hours,
We dwell in a future that never sheds
⁠O'er our heads its living flowers;
In fancy we gather with eager glee
What fate dooms to perish in infancy.

The youth is dreaming of laurels won
⁠On the battle-field of life,
He sees the hour of triumph near,
⁠Nor recks of the years of strife;
Yet his flashing eye shall be sunk and dim
Ere the victor's wreath may be wove for him.

The maiden dreameth the dearest dream
⁠The human heart may treasure,
Of a sun-lit home where faith and love
⁠Flow forth in ceaseless measure;
Let her dream, — nor whisper the future brings
No rainbow hues on its darkening wings.

Let them dream — they will rouse at duty's call,
⁠Eager for nobler doing,
Will catch the light on her steel-crowned helm,
⁠And turn from fancy's wooing,
And visions of love and of fame will die
As the sunset gleam from the wintry sky.

And yet, — though the dreams of earth be fair,
⁠God grant that a dreamless sleep
May seal the eyes that have learned too well
⁠O'er waking thoughts to weep;
Till a morn shall break in their dazzled sight,
Crowning earth's dreams with a truer light.