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Title: Disappointment
Author: James Avis Bartley [
More Titles by Bartley]
Last eve ere sleep had closed mine eyes,
To me there came a dream,
That when the saffron morn should rise
O'er lovely hill and stream;
I should behold a vision move
By yonder crystal spring--
A vision of an earthly dove,
With pure and blessed wing.
I thought the days of old romance,
Would now return to earth;
And, in that soft and placid trance,
So sweet--yet not like mirth--
I saw the Dryads gently gliding
Through shadowy groves of myrtle--
And Nereides their glances hiding,
And Venus with her turtle.
Alas! our brightest dreams deceive!
The morning rises, bright and sweet,
And every thing in nature waits
Thy fairy face and form to greet;
But they, alas! will wait in vain,
As I, with aching heart,
Whilst wrapt in other joy or pain,
In other scenes, thou art.
Thus ever from our path below,
Some vision lovelier far,
Than Eden's bird, or glittering gem,
Or beam of Beauty's star--
Glides swiftly by--and we are left
To mourn the fleeting bliss,
That mocks us, as we sadly thread,
So dark a scene as this.
[The end]
James Avis Bartley's poem: Disappointment
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