Classic Poem

I HAD a dream when I was young,
It was a mystery to me,
And ever to my heart has clung
Its most enchanting memory.

I stood a little lake beside,
With roses fring'd, as silver bright;
Above me Angels seem'd to glide,
All in a strangely liquid light.

When suddenly there thrill'd me through
A sound more sweet than I can name,
Unheard before, but well I knew
That from those angel forms it came.

They caught me up, they bore me high,
Softly their wings enwrapp'd me o'er;
Strange things they show'd me in the sky,—
Things I had never guess'd before.

Then first I saw how little earth
Can with eternal worlds compare;
Then first I felt my higher birth
Than beasts on land, or birds in air.

O joy of joys! I seem'd to fly;
I seem'd at Heav'n's own gate to be;
The Seraphs chanting through the sky
Amidst their songs enseraph'd me.

I woke;—the bells were chiming clear,
Waking I strove to dream again;
But then, and since from year to year,
I've sought for that sweet dream in vain.

O sunny hours of life's young light!
O season blest of man's brief day!
When in the dreams of morning bright
Angels can steal the soul away!

Would that again by grace divine
My soul were fit such things to see!
Gladly for this would I resign
All that the world has brought to me.