William Gilmore Simms (1806–1870)

THE TROPHIES which shine out for eager eyes,

In youth’s first hour of progress, and delude

With promise dearest to ambitious mood,

Lie not within life’s limits, but arise

Beyond the realm of sunset;—phantoms bright

Glowing above the tomb, having their roots

Even in the worshipper’s heart;—from whence their fruits,

And all that thence grows precious to man’s sight!

Thence, too, their power to lure from beaten ways

That Love hath set with flowers, and thence the spell,

’Gainst which the blood denied may ne’er rebel,

That leads to sleepless nights, and toilsome days,

And sacrifice of all those human joys

That to the ambitious nature seem but toys.