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"OH WERE I RICH!

"Oh were I rich! How oft, in youth's bright hour,

When youthful pleasures banish every care,

I longed for riches but to gain a power,

The sword and plume and uniform to wear!

The riches and the honor came for me;

Yet still my greatest wealth was poverty:

Ah, help and pity me!

"Once in my youthful hours, when gay and free,

A maiden loved me; and her gentle kiss,

Rich in its tender love and purity,

Taught me, alas! too much of earthly bliss.

Dear child! She only thought of youthful glee;

She loved no wealth, but fairy tales and me.

Thou knowest: ah, pity me!

"Oh were I rich! again is all my prayer:

That child is now a woman, fair and free,

As good and beautiful as angels are.

Oh, were I rich in lovers' poetry,

To tell my fairy tale, love's richest lore!

But no; I must be silent—I am poor.

Ah, wilt thou pity me?

"Oh were I rich in truth and peace below,

I need not then my poverty bewail.

To thee I dedicate these lines of woe;

Wilt thou not understand the mournful tale?