Classic Poem

I woke, having dreamed that I was left alone,
And timidly outstretched a searching hand
And searching eyes, — but felt that I was fanned
By the breath of morning, and a silver tone
Came sweet to reassure me. — Ah! mine own,
What a reaction had God's genius planned!
What an uplifting from the murky land
Into green meadows softly overblown!

And then I knew the difference was this, —
Just this swift difference and nothing more, —
Between hell's horror and the silver shore
Of heaven; even that between the bliss
Of being loved and lips I thought no kiss
Would ever teach to wonder and adore.