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A DREAM.
On her couch the sleeper lay,
Weary, like a child, with play;
And a child in heart she seems,
Who so sweetly, strangely dreams:
All is silent in the room,
Save the clock that cheers the gloom
With its gentle tick, which numbers
Every hour while Norah slumbers.

From its cage the spirit springs,
Plumes its light and airy wings;
Now it sips the sparkling dew,
Soaring through the ether blue;
Now, near shining gate of pearl,
Doth the soul its pinions furl;
And while breathless listening there,
Strains of music greet her ear.

Forms familiar, too, are seen—
Angel forms, with angel mien;
Father, with his snowy hair,
Mother, with her beauty rare;