Classic Poem

A TERRIBLE dream: I lay at dead of night
Tortured by some vague fear; it seem'd at first
Like a small ink-spot on the ceiling white,
To a black bubble swelling in my sight,
And then it grew to a balloon, and burst;
Then was I drown'd, as with an ebon stream,
And those dark waves quench'd all mine inward light,
That in my saturated mind no gleam
Remain'd of beauty, peace, or love, or right:
I was a spirit of darkness! — yet I knew
I could not thus be left; it was but a dream;
Still felt I full of horror; for a crew
Of shadowy ITS hemmed-in my harried mind,
And all my dread was waking mad and blind.