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?