FANCY.

Happiness, when from earth she fled, I passed on her heaven-ward flight,— "Take this wreath," the spirit said, "And bathe it in floods of light; To the sons of sorrow this token give, And bid them follow my steps and live!"

I took the wreath from her radiant hand, Each flower was a silver star; I turned this dark earth to a fairy land, When I hither drove my car; But I wove the wreath round my tresses bright, And man only saw its reflected light.

Many a lovely dream I've given, And many a song divine, But never—oh never!—that wreath from heaven Shall mortal temples twine. Hope and love in the chaplet glow: 'Tis all too bright for a world of woe!