A REVERIE.
Those hearts of ours — how strange! how strange! How they yearn to ramble and love to range Down through the vales of the years long gone, Up through the future that fast rolls on.
To-days are dull — so they wend their ways Back to their beautiful yesterdays; The present is blank — so they wing their flight To future to-morrows where all seems bright.
Build them a bright and beautiful home, They'll soon grow weary and want to roam; Find them a spot without sorrow or pain, They may stay a day, but they're off again.
Those hearts of ours — how wild! how wild! They're as hard to tame as an Indian child; They're as restless as waves on the sounding sea, Like the breeze and the bird are they fickle and free.