Dear friend, I heard thee say to me, "Christ is a dream: The fiction of thy heart is He, Its self-lit gleam." In vain I tried to think the thought: Life so bereft, So empty, fancy pictured not; Nothing was left; Scarcely the earth whereon I stood; A star grown dim: Earth, its Creator made so good, So full of Him! For all truth in humanity With Him is one; Through His dear children God I see, Father through Son. Thine own pure life -- thought, word, and deed, A holy flame -- In lines of light that all may read, Writes out His name. No loving voice, however weak, But echoes His; Dear friend, because I hear thee speak, I know He is! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RAIN-SONGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ODE INSCRIBED TO W.H. CHANNING by RALPH WALDO EMERSON SHERMAN'S IN SAVANNAH [DECEMBER 22, 1864] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ESCAPE AT BEDTIME by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON LOVE AND LIFE. A SONG by JOHN WILMOT THE FLITCH OF BACON: MY OLD COMPLAINT (ITS CAUSE AND CURE) by WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH |