THE WIDOWER’S DREAM.

I had a sweet and blissful dream;
I thought, a youth, I stray’d once more,
Where flow’d a gentle murmuring stream,
I knew in sunny days of yore:
And there again each flower and tree
Seem’d blooming just as bright and fair;
And, what was far more sweet to me,
I dreamt that she, my love, was there.

And merry friends methought* there came
Upon that old familiar scene;
And mingling in some joyous game,
They chose my fair one for their queen.
Then rang the welkin with their glee,
My bosom swell’d with love and pride
For what was more than all to me,
She promised there to be my bride.

Anon, a dark and frowning sky
There gather’s o’er that happy scene;
I thought I heard a faint “good bye!”
And all was gloom where joy had been.
The laughing eyes, each buoyant youth,
The trees, the flowers, all were gone!
I woke to feel the sad, sad truth –
That I, alas! Am all alone.

T.L.