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| WHAT was my dream? Though consciousness be clear, | |
| I hold no memory of the potent thing, | |
| Yet feel the force of it—a creeping fear, | |
| A hope, a horror, and a sense austere | |
| Of revelation, stayed at thought’s extreme: | 5 |
| As when the wind is passed, the pines still swing; | |
| Or when the storm has blown, the waves yet fling | |
| To shore the battered corpse and shattered beam; | |
| So sways my troubled mind. What was my dream? | |
| |
| What was my dream? A heath, starlit and wide, | 10 |
| With marching giants marshalled to and fro | |
| As if for strife? A moonlit river’s tide, | |
| Where every form I love may be descried | |
| Afloat and past all effort to redeem? | |
| A garden rare, with Nature all aglow | 15 |
| Among her fruits and flowers, that, as they grow, | |
| Breathe perfumed melody, full glad to teem | |
| With every germ of life? What was my dream? | |
| |
| What was my dream? A distant, unknown world | |
| That elemental ether doth immerse, | 20 |
| With matter in a wild disorder hurled, | |
| And primal forces in contention whirled, | |
| A senseless demon over all supreme, | |
| Who seeks with apish malice to reverse | |
| Creative influences, and coerce | 25 |
| A universe to death, and bring its scheme | |
| To chaos whence it came? What was my dream? | |
| |
| What was my dream? Some Indian sage’s scroll | |
| May keep for me, perchance, a glimpse or glint; | |
| Some Hebrew prophet’s vision may unroll | 30 |
| Its veils and show this secret of the soul; | |
| At times, among the murmurs of a stream, | |
| I catch the far, faint echo of a hint,— | |
| Or seem to feel in some suggestive tint, | |
| Where golden glories of the sunset gleam, | 35 |
| A presence unrevealed. What was my dream? | |
| |
| What was my dream? A silver trumpet blown | |
| Thrills with a touch of the strong mystery; | |
| The buds of spring, the leaves of autumn strown, | |
| The tempest’s flashing blade and braggart tone | 40 |
| Remind me of the unremembered theme. | |
| Where billows curve along the shining sea, | |
| It breaks through lucent green in foamy glee, | |
| And hides uncaught; not seldom do I deem | |
| Love’s sigh its harbinger? What was my dream? | 45 |
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