Dreams.
Dreams are but glimpses of the power
Deep hidden in the human soul
That, like some enchanted flower,
Withers 'neath reason's stern control.
They come not as invited guests
To while away the tedious hours—
Are they not lights from heaven sent
To teach the soul its wondrous powers?
And best they love to lead us back
O'er scenes to memory doubly dear,
For those we, waking, love the most
In dreams will seem most near.