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?