Advertisement

DISILLUSION.

AS in the wastes of arctic snow

The seaman's eyes, when slumber-sealed,

See in a mocking dream revealed

His land - his home - in summer glow;

But ere he speaks the tender words

Advertisement

That from his lips unbidden start,

Or clasps his loved ones, heart to heart,

He wakes to look on glassy fjords,

And fields of ice that coldly glare

Beneath the flushing northern light,

Whose crimson beacons of the night

Show only desolation there;

So I, in rough and cheerless ways,

By fate confined with harsh decree,

Have dreamt an idle fantasy

Advertisement