Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/127

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And dreams, in their developement, have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They make us what we were not—what they will, And shake us with the vision that's gone by.

thou land of dreams! A world thou art of mysterious gleams, Of startling voices, and sounds at strife,— A world of the dead in the hues of life.

Like a wizard's magic glass thou art, When the wavy shadows float by, and part: Visions of aspects, now loved, now strange, Glimmering and mingling in ceaseless change.