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WHEN o'er my weary eyes at last,
The dew of slumber falls,
How clear the visions of the past
That world of dreams recalls!
I live among the dead once more,
Their voices round me ring;
The forms, the faces loved of yore,
Float by on angel's wing.

Father and mother! ye are near
To bless your child again;
Sisters beloved! kindred dear,
Ye crowd around me then.
Familiar voices, childish days,
The friends of early youth,
All blend in one commingling haze
Of fiction and of truth.

And thou, my angel child, more dear,
More wept than all the rest,
How oft thine image comes to cheer
Thy mourning mother's breast!
I clasp thee to my heart, mine own!
I kiss thy cheek once more.
Alas! in this world, dreams alone
Can that loved face restore.