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