Poetry Archives

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!
O’er lonely heath and darksome hill,
  As shivering home I went,
The mocking Wizard whispered shrill,
  ‘Thou’dst better been content!’