document.write("\\\'Te somnia nostra reducunt.\\\'<br />OVID.<br /><br />And ask ye why these sad tears stream?<br />Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?<br />I had a dream–a lovely dream,<br />Of her that in the grave is sleeping.<br /><br />I saw her as ’twas yesterday,<br />The bloom upon her cheek still glowing;<br />And round her play’d a golden ray,<br />And on her brows were gay flowers blowing.<br /><br />With angel-hand she swept a lyre,<br />A garland red with roses bound it;<br />Its strings were wreath’d with lambent fire<br />And amaranth was woven round it.<br /><br />I saw her mid the realms of light,<br />In everlasting radiance gleaming;<br />Co-equal with the seraphs bright,<br />Mid thousand thousand angels beaming.<br /><br />I strove to reach her, when, behold,<br />Those fairy forms of bliss Elysian,<br />And all that rich scene wrapt in gold,<br />Faded in air–a lovely vision!<br /><br />And I awoke, but oh! to me<br />That waking hour was doubly weary;<br />And yet I could not envy thee,<br />Although so blest, and I so dreary.");