* * * * *

But stay--what means this throbbing brain--
This heaving chest--these pulses quick?
Oh, take me to the land again,
_For I am very, very sick!_




The Golden Dream.


In midnight dreams the Wizard came,
And beckoned me away--
With tempting hopes of wealth and fame,
He cheered my lonely way.
He led me o'er a dusky heath,
And there a river swept,
Whose gay and glassy tide beneath,
Uncounted treasure, slept.
The wooing ripples lightly dashed
Around the cherished store,
And circling eddies brightly flashed
Above the yellow ore.
I bent me o'er the deep smooth stream,
And plunged the gold to get,--
But oh! it vanished with my dream--
And I got dripping wet!