A Nightmare

Photo by Soner Arkan on Pexels.com

Antiquated truths in the moon light

We have faith for griefs presented—

Apathetic praise of graves by night

Loss gave as intended.

Ah! what is now a truth by night

To those whose virtues trap

Astray without them causes fright

Run towards a fated hap?

Those terrible truths—that terrible truth,

Split one from no one whose praising,

They scorned us as an ugly group

We precious villains racing.

Went over that night, fro’ calm and bright,

So steady so near—

Went list there be less cryptic fights

From liar’s dark-jeers?

A Dream


In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed—

But a waking dream of life and light

Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day

To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him with a ray

Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream—that holy dream,

While all the world were chiding,

Hath cheered me as a lovely beam

A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,

So trembled from afar—

What could there be more purely bright

In Truth’s day-star?


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