I dreamed, and ah! the dream was sweeter far,
Than any dream of cloud-born poet ever;
Or love-lorn maiden praying to a star
On Agne's Eve. I thought a glorious quiver,
Of ecstasy was trembling, full with tears,
Deep in the eyes of a maternal thought,
And Time, beyond the outposts of the years,
Was hushed expectant, all of wonder fraught.
For Fancy cradled in a golden cloud
Had risen in a dream of boundless glory,--
While on his brow his soul had overflowed,
And swiftly scaled a purple promontory.
Then back again, in speed as dreamy fleet,
And laid a snow-white feather at my feet.