Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition

The Lost Path (Author: Thomas Osborne Davis)

p.359

1. Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be,
   All comfort else has flown;
   For every hope was false to me,
   And here I am, alone.
   What thoughts were mine in early youth!
   Like some old Irish song,
   Brimful of love, and life, and truth,
   My spirit gushed along.
2. I hoped to right my native isle,
   I hoped a soldier's fame,
   I hoped to rest in woman's smile
   And win a minstrel's name—
   Oh! little have I served my land,
   No laurels press my brow,
   I have no woman's heart or hand,
   Nor minstrel honours now.
3. But fancy has a magic power,
   It brings me wreath and crown,
   And woman's love, the self-same hour
   It smites oppression down.
   Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be,
   I have no joy beside;
   Oh! throng around, and be to me
   Power, country, fame, and bride.