A DREAM.
49
It carries me back to that story by Shelley—
Oh, no!—I forget—'twas delightful, Tom Moore
Who wrote about Lalla, the princess of Delhi,
And—only for love—the long journey she bore
Oh, no!—I forget—'twas delightful, Tom Moore
Who wrote about Lalla, the princess of Delhi,
And—only for love—the long journey she bore
How well I remember, when ardent and glowing
With notions romantic, the pleasure I took
In reading the poem, and wished I were going
To be a Sultana—like fair Lalla Rookh!
With notions romantic, the pleasure I took
In reading the poem, and wished I were going
To be a Sultana—like fair Lalla Rookh!
O strong the illusion, and binding the glamour
A poet can give!—it seems perfectly clear.
Though thought is maturer and fancy is calmer,
That I am indeed in the vale of Cashmere!
A poet can give!—it seems perfectly clear.
Though thought is maturer and fancy is calmer,
That I am indeed in the vale of Cashmere!
A Dream.
::I've had a sweet glimpse
Of a far-away land;
In dreaming, it came unto me;
I thought I was walking
Alone by the strand
Of a placid and beautiful sea.
Of a far-away land;
In dreaming, it came unto me;
I thought I was walking
Alone by the strand
Of a placid and beautiful sea.
Its borders abounded
With verdure and life;
And beyond was a city, so fair,
That with it in grandeur
And elegance rife,
There's nothing on earth can compare.
With verdure and life;
And beyond was a city, so fair,
That with it in grandeur
And elegance rife,
There's nothing on earth can compare.
