Bereave me not of Fancy's shadowy dreams, <br />Which won my heart, or when the gay career <br />Of life begun, or when at times a tear <br />Sat sad on memory's cheek--though loftier themes <br />Await the awakened mind to the high prize <br />Of wisdom, hardly earned with toil and pain, <br />Aspiring patient; yet on life's wide plain <br />Left fatherless, where many a wanderer sighs <br />Hourly, and oft our road is lone and long, <br />'Twere not a crime should we a while delay <br />Amid the sunny field; and happier they <br />Who, as they journey, woo the charm of song, <br />To cheer their way;--till they forget to weep, <br />And the tired sense is hushed, and sinks to sleep.<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-oxford/
