A voice came from the threshold stone On beds of fire that burn below, Father, I firmly do believe- I know for Death who comes for me From regions of the blest afar, Where there is nothing to deceive, I do believe that Eblis hath A snare in every human path— No mote may shun-no tiniest fly The light'ning of his eagle eye— Till, growing bold, he laughed and leapt то THE bowers whereat, in dreams, I see The wantonest singing birds, Are lips-and all thy melody Of lip-begotten words Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined, Then desolately fall, O God! on my funereal mind Like starlight on a pall— Thy heart-thy heart!—I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day Of the truth that gold can never buy--Of the baubles that it may. 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 That holy dream—that holy dream, |