The Ideal

I know sweet songs I can not sing, I have bright thoughts I daré not breathe Though trumps of fame for me should riñe And deck my brow wtth laurel wreath, I ve tales uutold I can not telí, Though they rnight bring me wealth and fame Ana tnrough the ceaseless ages stamp In gilded words a deatkless name. Tliis burdened heart must ever bear In silence through the y--ars ti come lts disappointments aud despair. As day byday I'm nearing lióme. And when those songs I dure lo sing. And breat..e the thought that born within. This prisoned soul wiil surely wint lts endless fight from grief and sin