Ghosts of Dreams<\/p>\n
WE are all of us dreamers of dreams,
\nOn visions our childhood is fed;
\nAnd the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
\nBy ghosts of dreams that are dead.<\/p>\n
From childhood to youth’s but a span,
\nAnd the years of our life are soon sped;
\nBut the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
\nWhen the first of his dreams is dead.<\/p>\n
‘Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
\nWhen the doom of a great man is said;
\nAnd the best of a man is under a pall
\nWhen the best of his dreams is dead.<\/p>\n
He may live on by compact and plan
\nWhen the fine bloom of living is shed,
\nBut God pity the little that’s left of a man
\nWhen most of his dreams are dead.<\/p>\n
Let him show a brave face if he can;
\nLet him woo fame and fortune instead;
\nYet there’s not much to do, but to bury a man
\nWhen the last of his dreams is dead.<\/p>\n
–\tWilliam Herbert Carruth<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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 …<\/p>\n