A dark unfathomed tide
Of interminable pride -
A mystery, and a dream,

Should my early life seem;

I say that dream was fraught

With a wild and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen,


Had I let them pass me by,
With a dreaming eye!

Let none of earth inherit
That vision of my spirit;


Those thoughts I would control,
As a spell upon his soul:
For that bright hope at last

And that light time have past,

And my worldly rest hath gone

With a sigh as it passed on:
I care not though it perish
With a thought I then did cherish