[Written for the Sentinel]

A Dream

The night with dreams was filled, with terrors dread,
And real unto my slumbering sense did seem:
Oh, what a world that did with specters teem,
As in the chamber of the living dead!
I sought to flee, but could not turn my head,
Fast bound within the fetters of the dream,
When, lo! amid the darkness there did gleam
A ray of light: behold, the dream had fled!

How beautiful the morning, light and clear
Assuring beams of the arisen sun
Shine through my chamber window: need I fear
The evil that the phantoms might have done?
Sense is the slumber and the dream, but near
Is Love to waken, and sweet peace is won.

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