html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Some years ago, my little friend,
When I was quite a girl,
To please your ma I wrote some rhymes
About her little pearl.
She thought a babe so fair and sweet
As her dear little Nell,
Could surely call my talent forth
And woo the poet's spell.
And so, in many childish words
I praised each feature fair,
The deep'ning rose tint in your cheek,
The wealth of auburn hair.
I have the verses, Nellie, yet,
All safely stored away,
Sweet reminiscences they bring,
Of childhood's happy day.
Remembrance of each youthful dream
Comes when I con them o'er,
Of castles such as you will build,
In but a few years more.
I have not done my dreaming yet,
Some castles fair and high,
Still point their gleaming turrets
'Neath the future's gilded sky.
Ah! Nellie, it is sweet to dream,
But I have found, alas!
Imagination's fairy scenes
Will never come to pass.
And Nellie, it is better far
To live among the real,
Than spend the hours of golden youth
Amid the bright ideal.
For if we'd climb to flowery heights,
And crowns of laurel wear,
We first must face the hard cold world,
And sup with toil and care.
Dreaming will never help us through
The battles of our life,
For we must work if we would be
The victors in the strife.