Is it no dream that I am he

Is it no dream that I am he
Whom one awake all night
Rose ere the earliest birds to see,
And met by dawn's red light;

Who, when the wintry lamps were spent
And all was drear and dark,
Against the rugged pear-tree leant
While ice crackt off the bark;

Who little heeded sleet and blast,
But much the falling snow;
Those in few hours would sure be past,
His traces that might show;

Between whose knees, unseen, unheard,
The honest mastiff came,
Nor fear'd he; no, nor was he fear'd:
Tell me, am I the same?

O come! the same dull stars we'll see,
The same o'er-clouded moon.
O come! and tell me am I he?
O tell me, tell me soon.
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