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O
UR views of life so strangely change; what seemed of yesterday A fairy dream with colors bright, has faded quite away; The piper and the strains are gone; the forms so fair and bright Have left but memory visions, as they danced beneath the light. But some have crossed the gloomy vale, and that now lies between The good old days of long ago, excepting for my dream, Which seems to cast the vale aside, and all is bright and fair With father, mother, and the group of happy ones still there. So you who wonder why I muse, my treasure house should see, Because of the choice things it holds, so very dear to me; And as I pass along the way, I often get a gleam Of what the world may never know-a painting, through a dream. |