DREAMS
I sang to them a glowing hymn, inspired and filled with hope;
I sang that truth was destined to be victor in the fight;
That darkness could not evermore resist its radiance clear,
And that the future of our land would joyful be and bright.
And all that I had hidden and cherished in my heart,
Like to a precious treasure, through hard days, slow and long—
My highest aspirations, my best and noblest dreams,
I poured them all forth freely in the accents of that song.
I ceased. The song was followed by no thunders of applause,
No wreaths came dropping at my feet, a fragrant, flowery storm;
The guerdon of the singer is a moment’s silence deep,
And, in the hush, a hand-clasp—a hand-clasp close and warm.
But whence and wherefore are these tears? How proud and glad am I!
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