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.
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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.
O visions ill foreseen! Better had I
Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne
My part of read more
O visions ill foreseen! Better had I
Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne
My part of evil only.
Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic read more
Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame,
And poet's vision of eternal fame.
Fond man! the vision of a moment made!
Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
Fond man! the vision of a moment made!
Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
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.
And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.
And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.
I have also spoken by the prophets, and I have multiplied
visions, and used similitudes, by the ministry of read more
I have also spoken by the prophets, and I have multiplied
visions, and used similitudes, by the ministry of the prophets.
I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever read more
I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung but the thought surpassed the
meter!
I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought till the cold stone echoed
his ardent thought!
Or, if ever a painter with light and shade the dream of his
inmost heart portrayed!
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.
