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?
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?