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dreams.
Shall all dissolve beneath our eye,
And prove an empty dream to-morrow!
And prove an empty dream to-morrow!
Miser, the hoard thou gazest on
Is not so solid as thou deemest;
Thy glittering heap shall soon be gone,
It is but air, and thou but dreamest!
Is not so solid as thou deemest;
Thy glittering heap shall soon be gone,
It is but air, and thou but dreamest!
Poet, these dreamers laugh at thee,
And mock thy fancy's fragile scheming,
Too much asleep, poor elves, to see,
That they themselves are only dreaming!
And mock thy fancy's fragile scheming,
Too much asleep, poor elves, to see,
That they themselves are only dreaming!
