University of Virginia Library

WAKING DREAMS.

Sleep's Dreams are fair, but fairer Waking Dreams,
When lost in its own self the Spirit seems
To wander at its own glad will—far—far—
While here it finds a Cloud, and there a Star—
A gorgeous Cloud of Mystery—a rich gloom,
Flushed like the deepest Sunset's crimson bloom!
A glorious Star—unknown, unseen before,
That lights its way to thousand thousands more!
Now doth it meet with some exhaustless Mine,
Where treasures without name or number shine;
Now with some ever fresh and living Spring,
Which all around appears bright wealth to fling!
Yes! fair are Slumber's Dreams, but lovelier still
Those Waking Dreams, which we may shape at will—
Those Waking Dreams, crown'd, heightened, glorified,
By the rich Sunshine kindling round in pride,
Which melts itself through the unconscious thought,
Till the Outward World and that Within are wrought
Together to One Glory—and the whole
Becomes—One Heavenly Universe of Soul!
Moments grow then to bright Eternities,
The thoughts roll on like stars through cloudless skies!
Oh! Waking Dreams—as we in Life advance
More rare becomes the rich ecstatic trance,
Stern, strong Realities around us close,
And those Realities too often—Woes!
Our thoughts become absorbed in other things,
Each day some dark and mournful lesson brings,
And we have countless claims upon our time,
And move—poor Exiles of the Enchanted Clime—
The Sweet Enchanted Clime of Fancy then—
Our Country is the World—our Comrades, Men!—
We must resign the Starry Dream-Land fair,
And the bright Beings that we met with there!
Our hours are given to care, our heavy hours,
Not told by diamond Sands—nor marked by folding Flowers.