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‘Anticipation is sweeter than realisation.’ It may be, yet I have not found it so. In those first golden dreams of future fame I did not find such happiness as came When toil was crowned with triumph. Now I know My words have recognition, and will go Straight to some listening heart, my early aim, To win the idle glory of a name, Pales like a candle in the noonday’s glow. So with the deeper joys of which I dreamed: Life yields more rapture than did childhood’s fancies, And each year brings more pleasure than I waited. Friendship proves truer than of old it seemed, And, all beyond youth’s passion-hued romances, Love is more perfect than anticipated.
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