I dreamed a dream when six years old:—
Against my mother’s knee one day,
Protected by her mantle’s fold,
All weary, weak, and wan I lay.
Then seemed it that in caverns drear
I roamed forlorn. The weeks went by
From month to month, from year to year:
At last I laid me down to die.
An angel by me stood, and smiled;
He wrapt me round; aloft he bore;
He wafted me o’er wood and wild;
He laid me at my mother’s door.
How oft in sleep with heart that yearned
Have I not seen that face! Ah! me,
How slowly, seeing, I discerned
That likeness strange it bears to thee!