JT-45-A DREAM--SUCH AS POETS FEIGN.

A DREAM--SUCH AS POETS FEIGN.

Far in a grove alone I stray’d
And sought a silent bower,
I sat me down beneath the shade,
To muse the happy hour.

The scene was charming to my sight,
The wild birds sweetly sang,
The vocal woods gave me delight,
And far around me rang.

The place was paradise to me,
My thoughts rov’d on amain,
I’d found the spot I long’d to see,
And bliss without a pain.

The sweetest feelings of the soul,
In one celestial stream,
Bore me away with sweet control,
In a seraphic dream.

Methought I saw a damsel fair,
And tears were in her eyes,
Her head, her breast, and arms, were bare,
I heard her bursting sighs.

I heard her call, and call aloud,
To those who pass’d her by,
But few among the busy crowd,
Gave her the least reply.

I stopp’d and look’d her in the face--
’Twas then she sweetly smil’d,
Her features shone with heavenly grace
Far more than nature’s child.

I stepp’d toward her, and I cried,
O, tell to me thy name,
And tell me where thou dost abide,
And whence thy sorrows came.

With diffidence and down-cast eye,
In modest tone she spoke,
She wiped a tear, and gave a sigh,
And thus her silence broke.

"My name is Charity and Love,
Descended from the skies,
My native home is heaven above,
Where no distresses rise.

I left the happy millions there,
To visit all mankind,
I would their restless souls prepare,
A better world to find.

I long have called to every class,
To take me by the hand,
But some would mock, and deafly pass,
And let me weeping stand.

Some years ago I passed along,
Where multitudes reside,
And several of the gazing throng,
Engaged me for their bride.

The merchants took me in their store,
And learned of me to smile,
But this they did to sell the more,
And gain the peasant’s toil.

Mechanics too, of every kind,
Entreated me full well,
While flatt’ry and deceit could find,
A better way to sell.

But now the times severe have grown,
And labor gives no gain,
Their hearts are hard as hardest stone,
And me they all disdain.

They’ve turn’d me from their parlor doors,
And ston’d me in the street,
I find no place upon their floors,
Nor aught of them to eat!

I then besought the priestly clan,
To gain a shelter there,
Some took me in and soon began,
To celebrate the fair.

They’d dress me up on Sabbath day,
And lead me to the place,
Where hundreds meet to sing and pray,
And wait for heavenly grace.

But all the week their acts proclaim’d
Their negligence to me,
They seldom loved to hear me nam’d
And would my presence flee.

Their love to me was not unfeigned,
But few I found were true,
When thy their worldly objects gained,
They bade me long adieu.

They’ve led me up the pulpit stair,
To preach abroad my fame,
But oft have scandalized me there,
And push’d me down with shame.

They often rave, and drive me far,
From where they stand to preach,
And in the zeal of pulpit war,
Their prejudices teach.

They all agree, and have combin’d,
To kill me, if they can,
They have hunted up and down to find,
And drive me from their clan.

This is the cause, young man, I tell,
Why I must wander here,
And why so high my sorrows swell,
And I so sad appear.

I now must seek the wilderness,
Nor find a cottage nigh,
I there must wail my deep distress,
And vent for man my sigh."

I’ll go with thee, I loudly said,
And give thee my embrace,
With thee, for mail my tears I’ll shed,
In the sequestered place.

These words addressed, I then awoke,
And pondered well the theme,
And, O! how charm’d by her that spoke
The substance of my dream.