Meigs County Telegraph

Is it a dream, or is it the soul that sees.—Bulwer

When the dewy shades of even
Floated o'er the sleeping earth,
And the trembling gems of heaven
Danced like weirds in their mirth—
Then my thoughts afar were wafted
To a radiant sunlight clime,
Far away from earth's dark confines,
Where ne'er fell the foot of Time.

There the sound of falling waters
Made sweet murmurs to the breeze,
While strange golden birds were flitting
Through the dark persistent trees—
Then the gush of happy voices
Stole upon the enraptured ear,
Making strains of heavenly music
Strung on harps I loved to hear.

Here and there were laughing children
Sporting o'er the mossy dell,
Drinking drops of pearly brightness
From the crystal violet's bell,
Smiling flowers of hues the brightest,
Dream-like, nodded to the wind,
Giving to each breeze a token
In their perfume left behind.

Wildly, wildly, throbbed my bosom
As I did around me gaze,
While strange thoughts stole o'er my spirit—
Memories of other days.
And methought each radiant feature
Gazing through the starry mist,
Bore the lineaments of angels
That had passed to endless bliss.

As I gazed in dreamy raptures
At the land of angels bright,
One fair form advanced to meet me
At the gate of golden light.
"Sister, come," it whispered softly,
"Sister, come, delay no more—
Soon thou'lt pass the stream—I wait thee
On this bright, this golden shore."

"Here, my sister, all is gladness,
Here no pang of grief we know—
Once the dreaded ordeal over
Joys unbounded overflow.
Here is never heard the wailing
Of the widow, wild with care,
Or the famished orphan, calling
For a bite in sad despair.

But our Father kindly watching,
Tends our every want and pain,
All our little griefs assuages—
Smiles and joys here only reign.
Then come, my sister, I now greet thee,
At the glorious gate of light
And with choral strains will lead thee
Through this land supremely bright."

As that voice of thrilling power,
Murmuring, died upon the breeze,
Woke within my spirit, longings
To unite my soul with thee
But the mystic spell was broken—
Linked was I to earth again—
Though my spirit dream was shattered,
Yet it lingers on my brain.

Now I oft, as Evening shadows
Fall across the hills of blue,
Dream of heaven as in that hour
When my life to me was new,
And 'tis sweet, although I waken
To a life beset with snares,
Yet to know that bliss immortal
Dwells beyond this world of cares.