And watching the pictures that come and go;

Like dissolving views on a magic screen

Is the witchery of this changing scene;

Though half I’m dreaming, though half awake,

I fear to move lest the spell I break,

Lest my fairy castles will break and fall,

And down will tumble each beautiful wall.

Thus still in a stupor I sit and gaze

At the glowing embers and wanton blaze;

I am smiling at Fancy; she tries in vain

To lure me along with the mad’ning train

That follow her footsteps—that to her cling,

As flowers that garland the steps of spring;

In moody silence I sit apart,

Till memory conquers my sullen heart.

Sweet Memory! sprite of my golden past!

Your tinseled veil o’er me is cast;

Subdued I yield like one enchained,

And yet my freedom is only feigned;

Back through the aisles of years that are gone,

A willing captive you lead me on,

Where I gleaned unbidden the joys of youth

While the world was blossoming with love and truth.

Before my heart could interpret a sigh,

Or a tear-drop’s shadow creep into my eye,

Ere I’d missed from the circle of friendship’s chain

The link once lost that we ne’er regain,

The future to me was a vast expanse,

Its depth I could solve at a single glance,

Knew not of the troubles that torture the soul

Hidden away in its sober fold.

Yet, to-night, as I dream in the gathering gloom,