If some great angel thus bespake,
“Near, and thy nearest, he shall be,
Yet thou—a dreamer though awake—
But thine own thought in him shalt see”;
If some great angel thus bespake,
“Near, and his nearest, thou shalt be,
Yet still his fancy shall mistake
That beauty he but dreams, for thee”;
If, last, some pitying angel spake,
“Through life unsevered ye shall be,
And fancy’s dreams suffice to slake
Your thirst for immortality”;
Then would I cry for love’s great sake,
“O Death! since truth but dwells with thee,
Come quick, and semblance substance make—
In heaven abides Reality.”