by Lynn Terry
THE brightest hours of our childhood found us dreaming by a quiet stream, or sitting on a hill, our knees encircled in our arms, our eyes outshining the stars they looked upon while fashioning an inner vision.
It was then we promised our early God to have the courage to keep amid the tempests of the coming years that light which glowed within.
What have you done with those dreams, and what have they done with you?
In those first dreams what courage there was! What faith! What visions!
We dared to dream of ourselves as Joan of Arc, as Bernhardt, as Galli Curci, or Queen Marie, or Princess Mary -- only -- a little better, a little brighter, a little more glamorous than she who inspired the dream. And our faith was perfect.
We had not yet been told there was anything too good to be true.
Such were the shining visions of our childhood. But the years passed and they grew dim.
THEN came the dreams of adolescence and of youth.
These took more generally the forms of power: Money, Fame, Love. Not so defined nor so pictorial as the earlier dreams, but filled with the surge and tremulous beauty of a new awakening, a maturer life.
There is a powerful urge in these, and they do not ever pass completely.
They remain to the end, either as living images by which we shape our destiny, or as pathetic memories to remind us of what we might have been.
There is in all this world no inspiration stronger and no dream more perfect than the dream of youth.
"One man with a dream, at pleasure
Shall go forth and conquer a crown,
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample a kingdom down."
"The Young Man's Dream That Helped Nurture and Foster the Growth of Beta Sigma Phi"
"Dare to Dream and Embrace the Vision to See the Purpose."