But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And read more

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And say, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel, writing in a book of gold;
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said--
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And, with a look made all of sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.

Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are read more

Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Is rounded with a sleep.

Fond man! the vision of a moment made!
Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!

Fond man! the vision of a moment made!
Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!

And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,

Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,

I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever read more

I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung but the thought surpassed the
meter!
I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought till the cold stone echoed
his ardent thought!
Or, if ever a painter with light and shade the dream of his
inmost heart portrayed!

So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
read more

So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear.