Over an ancient scroll I bent,Steeping my soul in wise content,Nor paused a moment,save to chide A low voice whispering at my side.
I wove beneath the stars'pale shine A dream,half human,half divine;And shook off (not to break the charm)
A little hand laid on my arm.
I read;until my heart would glow With the great deeds of long ago;Nor heard,while with those mighty dead,Pass to and fro a faltering tread.
On the old theme I pondered long -
The struggle between right and wrong;
I could not check such visions high,To soothe a little quivering sigh.
I tried to solve the problem--Life;
Dreaming of that mysterious strife,How could I leave such reasonings wise,To answer two blue pleading eyes?
I strove how best to give,and when,My blood to save my fellow-men -How could I turn aside,to look At snowdrops laid upon my book?
Now Time has fled--the world is strange,Something there is of pain and change;My books lie closed upon the shelf;
I miss the old heart in myself.
I miss the sunbeams in my room -
It was not always wrapped in gloom:
I miss my dreams--they fade so fast,Or flit into some trivial past.
The great stream of the world goes by;
None care,or heed,or question,why I,the lone student,cannot raise My voice or hand as in old days.
No echo seems to wake again My heart to anything but pain,Save when a dream of twilight brings The fluttering of an angel's wings!
