I pant to hear the burning words
Which thrill through every vein ;
I'm waiting for the hallow'd thouglits
Which live in fervid brain :
I shrink from dull reality,
I want to live a dream,
I'd travel through the marshy lands
Where fairy beacons gleam—
And suffer darkness and despair
So that the elfin lights were there.

I've number'd years—the wine cup bring,
'Tis but my lip is cold ;
The spirit through me quivering
Has not—like dust—grown old;
It panteth for a bliss unknown,
It waiteth for delig:ht ;
Though youthful visions all are flown.
It will not own 'tis night—
The drink of heaven—thy nectar Jove !
Was friendship steep'd in woman's love.

Then lull me into visions bland ;
The world, you say, demands my hate .
But I would dream my days awav,
And wish the world a better fate.
O let my heart be doating still
O'er visions bright of woman's truth;
Let it rely on manly faith,
As firmly as in days of youth.
The drink of heaven—thy nectar Jove !
Was friendship steep'd in woman's love.