In visions of the dark night
    I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
    Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
    To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
    Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream—that holy dream,
    While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
    A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
    So trembled from afar—
What could there be more purely bright
    In Truth’s day-star?
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