Imitation
A
dark
unfathomed
tide
Of
interminable
pride
-
A
mystery,
and
a
dream,
Should
my
early
life
seem;
I
say
that
dream
was
fraught
With
a
wild
and
waking
thought
Of
beings
that
have
been,
Which
my
spirit
hath
not
seen,
Had
I
let
them
pass
me
by,
With
a
dreaming
eye!
Let
none
of
earth
inherit
That
vision
of
my
spirit;
Those
thoughts
I
would
control,
As
a
spell
upon
his
soul:
For
that
bright
hope
at
last
And
that
light
time
have
past,
And
my
worldly
rest
hath
gone
With
a
sigh
as
it
passed
on:
I
care
not
though
it
perish
With
a
thought
I
then
did
cherish
