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I dreamed, departed friend, of thee:
Methought my soul had ta'en its flight,
And freed from all the toils of earth,
Had sought the realms of endless light.
Thou, loved and lost, wert by my side;
And, oh! The bliss of that brief minute--
Brief, for it faded long ere we
Could realise rapture in it.
Blest, sweet communion, soaring thus,
With arms enwreathed, we sought that shore,
Where fain our weary souls would rest,
And thou and I would part no more.
For our frail bark was tempest-tost,
And long with wind and wave had striven
To reach that haven of our hopes,
To which our earnest thoughts were given.
Oft, as we sped o'er life's dull sea,
Full many a proud and stately sail
Beheld with scorn our fragile boat,
Striving to win against the gale.
Now that sweet haven's reached at last;
Our weary, joyless wandering's o'er,
And all of life-- its bitter scorn--
Its cruel mockery-- felt no more.
Oh! Why did earth recall me then?
Too soon that glorious vision faded;
And I awoke from that sweet dream,
To bear my lot alone-- unaided. |
