VAGUE as the shadows, 'neath April-leafed trees, Is Love's young Dream. Light as a thistledown tossed on the breeze, Is Love's young Dream. Frail as a fibre of frost-woven lace— Dim as the thought of a phantom face— Faint as the footprints of planets through space, Is Love's young Dream. Oh, brilliant and cold as the moon on the snow, Is Love's young Dream! Oh, pulseless in bliss and unwounded in woe, Is Love's young Dream! Shallow as brooklets that laugh as they run, And soulless as starlight when dawn is begun! Oh, unlike to Love as glowworm to sun, Is Love's young Dream! |