William Herbert Carruth
William Herbert Carruth Poems
- Ghosts Of Dreams We are all of us dreamers of dreams, On ...
- Each In His Own Tongue A fire-mist and a planet, A crystal ...
- Tescott Somewhere out West there lies a sloping plain That ...
- Flower And Song I. I dug a little flower From out the ...
- Dear Phantoms Of My Summer's G... Dear phantoms of my ...
- John Brown Had he been made of such poor clay as we, Who, ...
- God Bless You When you've struggled hard and long And the ...
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Comments about William Herbert Carruth
Ghosts Of Dreams
We are all of us dreamers of dreams,
On visions our childhood is fed;
And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
By ghosts of dreams that are dead.
From childhood to youth's but a span,
And the years of our life are soon sped;
But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
When the first of his dreams is dead.
'Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
When the doom of a great man is said;
And the best of a man is under a pall
When the best of his dreams is dead.
He may live on by compact and plan
When the fine bloom of living is shed,
But God ...