Alas! in this bare life thought is austere,
And only when the dream-clouds cover us
And we breathe phantasy's sweet airs, we take
Contentment, though 'tis visionary, on,
And find some miracle of beauty still
To charm us from the savour of ourselves.
And only when the dream-clouds cover us
And we breathe phantasy's sweet airs, we take
Contentment, though 'tis visionary, on,
And find some miracle of beauty still
To charm us from the savour of ourselves.
