Ghosts of Dreams

Ghosts of Dreams

WE are all of us dreamers of dreams,
On visions our childhood is fed;
And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
By ghosts of dreams that are dead.

From childhood to youth’s but a span,
And the years of our life are soon sped;
But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
When the first of his dreams is dead.

‘Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
When the doom of a great man is said;
And the best of a man is under a pall
When the best of his dreams is dead.

He may live on by compact and plan
When the fine bloom of living is shed,
But God pity the little that’s left of a man
When most of his dreams are dead.

Let him show a brave face if he can;
Let him woo fame and fortune instead;
Yet there’s not much to do, but to bury a man
When the last of his dreams is dead.

– William Herbert Carruth

One Comment

  1. It is one of the more humbling facts of life that we often find ourselves as adults in places and doing things that our younger selves would have never imagined. By the grace of God, I hope that none of us ever lose the child-like sense of wonder at the world around us and our place in it.

    Personally, I hope my best days are still in front of me rather than behind me.

    I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.

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