Poems (Eckley)/The Dream

by Sophia May Eckley

For works with similar titles, see The Dream.

THE DREAM.

 

(A SONG.)

 

"Oh! the dream within the dream."

ID you see the flowers, Dearest,
 Those wondrous flowers that grew
On the mossy bank we wandered o'er,
 Our bare feet in the dew?

Did you hear the long loved voices,
 That dear remembered tone
Of the angel of our childhood,
 Who left us here alone?

Did you feel the gentle wooing,
 The breeze that round us moved,
And seemed to softly whisper
 Names that we once had loved?

Did you know the voice that whisper'd
 In tones so soft and deep—
"We are waiting the Father's pleasure,
 To waken thee from sleep?"

And then you were sad and weeping,
 To retrace our earthward way,
And leave this dear land of flowers,
 For earth's long dreary day.

Tho' you heard the voice repeating—
 "Not yet, not yet, for thee,
The garment is not finished,
 Nor woven e'en for thee."

Aye! one more clasp—and parted;
 It was a dream, that we
Were wand'ring in that spirit-land,
 From earth and sorrow free.