The dreams of youth are fairest, <br />The dreams of youth are rarest; <br />The dreams of youth are brighter <br />Than the dreams we'll know again. <br />Hope is the fairy weaver <br />For youth, a firm believer, <br />And great the things we'll master <br />In the days when we are men. <br /> <br />There's neither pain nor sorrow <br />In the great and grand tomorrow <br />For the boy who lies a-dreaming <br />Underneath the apple tree. <br />There's neither hate nor malice <br />In the shining, golden chalice <br />The painter of the future holds <br />For every boy to see. <br /> <br />For his eyes are turned to gladness <br />And he sees no tear of sadness <br />In the visions of the future <br />That his soul is drinking in. <br />In the days to come he'll journey <br />With a brave heart to life's tourney, <br />And he dreams about the prizes <br />That in future years he'll win. <br /> <br />But the dreams of age are dreary, <br />For the soul is, O, so weary, <br />And the mind goes back in sadness <br />To the deeds we might have done; <br />And, too late, we sit repining, <br />Soon our sun will cease its shining, <br />Deep regret now paints the picture <br />Of the prize we might have won. <br /> <br />Ah, the future is the brightest <br />And its troubles are the lightest, <br />For the past is filled with anguish <br />And with disappointments, too. <br />Age has trod the paths of sorrow, <br />He has known each glad tomorrow, <br />But youth is ever dreaming <br />Of the things he's going to do.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dreams-of-youth/
