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'Twas night, or early morn, the busy street
Was for a time deserted, and no sound,
Save the quick pattering of the rain that beat
Against the casement, and the wind around,
Sighing its dismal strains, broke the profound.
The solemn, gloomy stillness that seemed meet
To lead the wakeful spirit from this earth—
Where Death has marked all creatures from their birth—
Up to the contemplation of yon spheres
Unknown, unseen, and yet for ever near;
Where "the dark valley" passed—years—endless years,
Nay, ages but like moments, shall appear.
Oh! that "eternal shore,"
When Death shall be no more!
How widely differing from this mortal state,
Where we but draw our earliest breath,
To yield it up again in death,
Obedient to the unchanging laws of Fate!
'Twas night, and sleep had closed the weary eye,
And the dream-world its visionary gate
Had opened to my soul, and soaring high,
As if on angel-pinions borne aloft,
Methought I saw, above the azure sky.
As through a veil of silver light—so soft,
And so subdued, yet clear, transparent, bland—
Oh, view sublime!—it was the spirits' land!
Vainly would mortal thought try to portray
That heavenly scene—magnificent and grand.
No words of mortal language could convey
The slightest glimpse of that celestial home,
Where disembodied souls and angels roam
In bliss eternal; and the Godhead reigns
In majesty unspeakable, and might!
Methought around was shed a rosy light,—
And wafted to my ear, ecstatic strains
Came sweeping by,—while forms, radiant in love,
In dignity, and beauty, glorious—bright—
Seemed floating there (that angel-hymn remains
But faintly on my waking mind). Above,
Methought, I gazed in wonderment and awe,
And as I gazed, a cherub form I saw
Approach; his features were not strange to me.
Again—again I looked. Ah, yes!—'twas he
The cherub who was lent me for a space,
A short—short space on earth—yes! I could trace
The well-remembered features! To my side
He came. "This is the blessed morn," he said,
