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ode to genius.
And shall I heave the ungrateful sigh
That morn has faded from my sky,
Call life a day-dream of deceit,
A scene of toys, a painted cheat,
Which smiles, and promises, and flies—
Because pert Fancy told me lies;
Or with Suspicion's scowling eye
Look onward thro' futurity?
Time, like ourselves, in limits bound,
Enforced runs the allotted round,
And we poor, silly, wayward elves,
Are dupes indeed, but—to ourselves!
Then, farewel hours, and days, and years,
Embalm'd in Memory's grateful tears,
Lov'd for the joys ye led along,
And pardon'd now, each vanish'd wrong?
How many a fragile child of rhyme
Has mock'd thee on thy passage, Time,
That morn has faded from my sky,
Call life a day-dream of deceit,
A scene of toys, a painted cheat,
Which smiles, and promises, and flies—
Because pert Fancy told me lies;
Or with Suspicion's scowling eye
Look onward thro' futurity?
Time, like ourselves, in limits bound,
Enforced runs the allotted round,
And we poor, silly, wayward elves,
Are dupes indeed, but—to ourselves!
Then, farewel hours, and days, and years,
Embalm'd in Memory's grateful tears,
Lov'd for the joys ye led along,
And pardon'd now, each vanish'd wrong?
How many a fragile child of rhyme
Has mock'd thee on thy passage, Time,
