From the grave the visions stretched their hands to him.
There was rapture in the stillness; there were voices in the night;
Trooped the angels with a beat of velvet wings;
And the stars stood still and listened, and the moon’s face, strangely white,
Kissed the sleeping world to dreams of better things.
Joy was lit in every corner, love was smiling at our side,
Golden glamour o’er the dawning days was cast;
Gaily, gaily sang the fiddle, while we marched with swinging stride
Through the flowers that hid the failures of the past.
Do you ever dream you hear it? Does it bring the vision back,