A dream
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? Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)