The Vision.

I call upon thee in the night,1
When none alive are near ; 2
I dream about thee with delight,—3
And then thou dost appear4
Fair, as the day-star o’er the hill,5
When skies are blue, and all is still.6
Thou stand’st before me silently7
The spectre of the past ;8
The trembling azure if thine eye,9
Without a cloud o’ercast ; 10
Calm as the pure and silent deep,11
When winds are hush’d and waves asleep.12
Thou gazest on me ! —but thy look13
Of angel tenderness,14
So pierces, that I less can brook15
Than is it spoke distress16
Or came in anguish here to me17
To tell of evil boding thee !18
Around thee robes of snowy white,19
With virgin taste are thrown ;20
And, at thy breast, a lily bright,21
In beauty scarcely blown : —22
Calmly thou gazest—like the moon23
Upon the leafy woods of June.24
The auburn hair is braided soft25
Above thy snowy brow : —26
Why dost thou gaze on me so oft !27
I cannot follow now !28
It would be crime, a double death29
To follow my forbidden path.30
But let me press that hand again,31
I oft have pressed in love,32
When sauntering thro’ the grassy plain,33
Or summer’s evening grove ;34
Or pausing, as we marked afar,35
The twinkling of the evening star.36
It is a dream, and thou art gone ;37
The midnight breezes sigh ;38
And downcast—sorrowful—alone39
With sinking heart, I lie40
To muse on days, when thou to me41
Wert more than all on earth can be !42
Oh ! lonely is the lost of him,43
Whose path is on the earth,44
And when his thoughts are dark and dim,45
Hears only vacant mirth ;46
A swallow left, when all his kind47
Have crossed the seas, and winged the wind.48