Deep in the soul a strong delusion dwells, A curious round of fairly fashioned dreams; Yet quietly, the pleasant vision swells Its gay proportions far around; the streams Of the wide universe their wealth supply, Their everlasting sources furnish forth The fabled splendours, whose immortal dye Colours the scene with hues which mock the summer sky And oh how sweetly, in youth's seraph soul, That vision, like the light of heaven, doth rest Its name is Life; its Hours their circle roll Like angels in the robes of morning drest; And every phantom of the train is blest Who shakes his plumes upon the odorous air, Or lights a star upon his azure crest And while the lovely beam reposes there Joy in the guileless heart his welcome will prepare |