by Edgar Allan Poe ( 1809 – 1849).

A Dream

In visions of the dark night
       I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
       Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
       To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
       Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream—that holy dream,
       While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
       A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
       So trembled from afar—
What could there be more purely bright
   In Truth’s day-star?

Notes:
http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/eapoe.htm
http://www.eapoe.org/