Vision

I have not walked on common ground,

Nor drunk of earthly streams;

A shining figure, mailed and crowned,

Moves softly through my dreams.

He makes the air so keen and strange,

The stars so fiercely bright;

The rocks of time, the tides of change,

Are nothing in his sight.

Death lays no shadow on his smile;

Life is a race fore-run;

Look in his face a little while,

And life and death are one.