Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?---"On death

I have clung To nothing, lov’d a nothing, nothing seen Or felt but a great dream!

Tall oaks branch charmed by the earnest stars Dream and so dream all night without a stir.

A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.

Real are the dreams of gods, and soothly pass their pleasures in a long immortal dream.

Closer of lovely eyes to lovely dreams, Lover of loneliness, and wandering, Of upcast eye, and tender pondering! Thee must I praise above all other glories That smile us on to tell delightful stories.

Thou art a dreaming thing, A fever of thyself.

The imagination may be compared to Adam's dream-he awoke and found it truth.

To Hope "When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my 'mind's eye' flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.