a dream

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?