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