[Editor: A poem, possibly written by Henry Halloran (1811-1893), published in The Colonist, 2 November 1837.]
Reason and Passion.
By H. H.
Wake from thy dream, oh! child of Passion! quickly,
The light that misguides thee now, must ere long decay,
And vainly wilt thou grieve that a phantasy so sickly,
Should have driven every manly joy so far, far, away.
Duty hath called, but alas! thou wouldst not hearken,
Honour hath frown’d at each infamous delay, —
And thy fame, like a star, shone, awhile, then seem’d to darken,
As thou basely bow’d thee down, to thine idols of clay.
Oh! wilt thou never subdue that frantic folly,
Which wears thee to dust, by night, and by day; —
Which crushes thy spirit, with pain, and melancholy;
And makes thee a scoff, a wanderer, and a prey.
Dreamer, I am — but my dream is full of glory,
Visions of love fill my busy, busy brain;
Those visions will support me, when aged, wan, and hoary; —
And for all their worldly pleasures, I would not give my pain.
Duty, and honour, and fame, I would surrender
To dwell in the light of those dear eyes again, —
To hear that sweet voice, so musically tender;
Ah! the praises of the world I could quietly disdain.
Idol of clay! — oh! spirit bless’d and sainted;
What hast thou of earth, or the earth’s deadly stain?
Holy of holies — of the pure most unattainted,
In heaven, in heaven, I shall meet thee again.
The Colonist (Sydney, NSW), 2 November 1837, p. 359 (7th page of that issue)
hoary = someone with grey or white hair; very old
phantasy = an alternative spelling of “fantasy”