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?