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THE PASSION OF A DREAM.
"Thy God is love, and I, that essence,Distilled by his creating hand,That wounded in the heart I conquer,Within His breast a refuge claim."
"Into thy being, Oh! sleeper there shall fall,A drop of that celestial fire,Quelling the fountains of unrest,Watering the lilies of thy pure desire."
The vision passed, the night-dew falling,Lay deep upon the heavy grass,The fanlike stretch of blue above me,Lay rifted where the pale moon passed.
I rose, my dreaming over-flowing,The ebbing tides of my full heart,I entered at the cottage gate,And sat among the flowers apart.
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The summer days into the autumn faded,And still I lingered, wondering much,What phantasy it was that held me,That thralled with lightsome touch-
My heart, that now no longer free,Lay fettered by that mighty power,
