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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