What is this dream, this changing form Appearing now as darkness, now as light, That holds within its great fantastic arm The fate of such a tranquil summer night? Its rolling color billows now effect A bacchanal of wild chaotic glee, And on a pleasant memory project A panorama of tumultuous sea. Behold! a light gleams through the firmament -- A gentle white with tints of purest gold; So calmly and so peacefully content It seems within that furious enfold. Oh, God! that I could grasp that sweetest light And hold it ever more against my heart! Alas! I reach for it with all my might, And angry billows tear the twain apart. |