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When slumber seals our weary eyes, That close fully and no longer weeps; The scenes which then before us rise, Prove something in us never sleeps. As in another world we seem, A new creation of our own, All appears real, though a dream, Yet all familiar, though unknown. Sometimes the mind beholds again The past day's business in review, Resumes the pleasure or the pain; And sometimes all we meet is new. What schemes we form, what pains we take! We fight, we run, we fly, we fall; But all is ended when we wake, We scarcely, then a trace, recall. But though our dreams are often wild, Like clouds before the driving storm; Maybe some messanger, aged or child Sent to admonish or inform. What mighty agents have access, What turmoil of aquaintences do compel Our minds to comfort or distress, When we are sleeping, who can tell? One thing, at least, and that's enough, We learn from this surprising fact; Our dreams afford sufficient proof, The soul, without the flesh, can act. This life, which mortals so esteem, That many choose it for their all, They will confess, was but a dream, When awakened by death's awful call.
gothgirl added this comment 2009-04-23 01:35:50-05:00
brilliant as usual:)
gothgirl added this comment 2009-04-23 01:35:50-05:00
brilliant as usual:)