 | Impressions of Italy and Other Poems |  |
308
WAKING AT MIDNIGHT.
Strange 'tis at Midnight's hour to wake
From deep dreams of the Lost—the Dead,
And to feel the Old Times, wave-like, break
Above the lowered and weigh'd-down head.
From deep dreams of the Lost—the Dead,
And to feel the Old Times, wave-like, break
Above the lowered and weigh'd-down head.
Shapes—steps—smiles—voices—to recall
Distinctly—till we scarce can deem
That Life, with its wild changes all,
Can be aught but a shadowy Dream!
Distinctly—till we scarce can deem
That Life, with its wild changes all,
Can be aught but a shadowy Dream!
Then comes the Morning's smiling dawn,
And Dreams are Dreams, and cheats again;
And the pale Past is all withdrawn
Into itself—in dim Unreign!
And Dreams are Dreams, and cheats again;
And the pale Past is all withdrawn
Into itself—in dim Unreign!
| Impressions of Italy and Other Poems | |