| 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? |
| A dream… |
| A dream… |
| 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? |
| A dream… |
| 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? |