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.