My Dream

Though full of careI tread the roundOf toil in which man's eager life is bound,I faint not 'neath the load I bear;For grievous though the burden sometimes be,I dream of thee!

And when, at night,I lie enwoundIn silence that is sweeter than all sound,The darkness, kindlier than light,Shuts out the busy world awhile, and free,I dream of thee!

Like to a breathOf fragrance blownFrom some shy blossom, hidden and alone,Redeeming frost and wintry death,So ever comes, like scent of bloom to me,My dream of thee!

Like to a starAmidst the clouds,When angry tempest hurtles in the shrouds,And darkling drifts the mariner afar,So, out of storm and shadow, beams on meMy dream of thee!