Then in fond dreams his Fancy oft would trace

Then in fond dreams his Fancy oft would trace His Northern home beside the winding stream, A mother’s fervent kiss and long embrace, A sister’s streaming tears, or the mild beam Of fairer eyes, where love-lit thoughts would seem To melt in tears. Oh, pictured vision bright! Too soon to fade,—gone with the fleeting dream, Like shooting stars that fade away in night, And leave no trace behind to mark their sudden flight.