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JULIET AFTER THE MASQUERADE.
59
IX.
Well, dream thy dream, fair girl!
Tho' ne'er did morning close,
With its cold and waking light,
Dreams fair and false as those:
X.
They are like the mists that rise
At day-break to the sky,
There, touched by all bright hues,
On its breast awhile they lie;
XI.
But the darker hour draws on,
The rose-tint disappears,
And the falling cloud returns
To its native earth in tears.—
XII.
Yet dream thy dream, fair girl!
Tho' away it will be driven,
'Tis something to have past
A single hour in heaven.
XIII.
Tho' thine eye has April light,
Tho' thy cheek has April bloom,
There is that upon them both
Which marks an early tomb.
