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Where are the places that we see in dreams—
Those lonely lands with nameless flowers and trees—
Dim, glimmering cliffs reflecting silvery beams,
And shadowy ships at rest on tideless seas?

Where are the purple islands that we see
Bathed in a splendid glow of sunset hues
And sail toward so fast and happily,
In phantom boats, while dancing Zephyr strews
Foam-flowers upon the waters as we fly!

Somewhere in those wide isles we think to lie
Under celestial trees in godlike ways,
Talking with old friends of remembered days
When life was sweet but for the certain sting
Of death, which we had thought a fearful thing.

Where are the marvelous palaces that rise
By silent waters in enchanted light,
Unto whose windows, with sweet sinless eyes,
Come faces that, alas, fade from the sight
While we enraptured gaze and think we know
Among them loved ones buried long ago?

Where are the halls through which grand music rings
While we in ecstacy step swiftly on
Through crystal corridors, surprised by wings
That lightly pass and softly touch upon
Our eager faces, then through portals bright
In far recesses vanish from the sight,
And as they fade into secret places
Reveal sweet clusters of angelic faces?

Where is the vale of lilies where at play,
Guarded by seraphs, infant angels are,
Christ walking with them in serenest day?
O mothers, broken-hearted and alone,
Lying with empty arms and bitter moan,
Do you not see it in a realm afar
When through the tears you shed in midnight dreams
A shimmering pathway from some bright star streams?

Where is the land of solitude, whose ways
Lead through long perilous passes into night
Of awful darkness, while the lightning blaze
On ghostly scenes and with fear's frenzy smite
The poor lost soul that, in such place of weir,
Feels, while it flies, a dreaded presence near,
Till suddenly a pale ray, faint and far
As the most tender twinkle of a star,
Shines through the gloom—and as we run it grows,
And as we near it still more brightly glows,
Until it draws us to a threshold o'er
Whose lintel like an angel it appears,
And while we gaze, lo! (happy, happy tears,)
A sainted mother opens wide the door.

Some time—and soon at farthest it must be—
A voice that some of us would not yet hear,
And some have waited for through many a year,
Will call from that dark region that we see
But for a moment when some dear one goes
Through the white door. Then with a calm repose
Befitting them that fear not death and hell,
Believing that He doeth all things well,
Answer the summons. Then will be forgot
All grief remembered and joy that is not,
For joy will be when in the unseen land
Death shall unclasp the weak but trusting hand,
And we shall find by Heaven's eternal streams
The lovely places that we see in dreams.
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