Their growth, as for Manoah’s captive son,
And I too on the miscreant race, like him,
Might prove my strength regenerate; but the hour,
When in its second best nativity,
My soul was born again through grace, this heart
Died to the world. Dreams such as thine pass now
Like evening clouds before me; if I think
How beautiful they seem, ’tis but to feel
How soon they fade, how fast the night shuts in.
But in that World to which my hopes look on,