'Twas once and only once and the wild hour

From my remembrance shall not pass—some power

Or spell had bound me—'twas the chilly wind

Came o'er me in the night and left behind

Its image on my spirit, or the moon

Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon

Too coldly—or the stars—howe'er it was

That dream was as that night wind—let it pass.

I have been happy, tho' but in a dream.

I have been happy—and I love the theme—

Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life—

As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife

Of semblance with reality which brings

To the delirious eye more lovely things

Of Paradise and Love—and all our own!

Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

(1827)