But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

Concerning perfect blessed ness which consists in a vision of
God.
[Lat., Circa beatitudinem perfectam, quae in Dei read more

Concerning perfect blessed ness which consists in a vision of
God.
[Lat., Circa beatitudinem perfectam, quae in Dei visione
consistit.]

Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are read more

Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Is rounded with a sleep.

The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream.

The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream.

So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
read more

So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear.

Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,

Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,

An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is read more

An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays;
I only know she came and went.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And read more

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And say, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel, writing in a book of gold;
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said--
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And, with a look made all of sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.