A Dream

…from the quills of the dead white poets

Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849)

       In visions of the dark night
        I have dreamed of joy departed-
      But a waking dream of life and light
        Hath left me broken-hearted.

      Ah! what is not a dream by day
        To him whose eyes are cast
      On things around him with a ray
        Turned back upon the past?

      That holy dream- that holy dream,
        While all the world were chiding,
      Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
        A lonely spirit guiding.

      What though that light, thro' storm and night,
        So trembled from afar-
      What could there be more purely bright
        In Truth's day-star?

About Paul Jacko

Jacko was born in Czechoslovakia not long before the communist putsch in February 1948. He studied industrial chemistry there and left in 1969 for Australia, where he became a lawyer and established his own practice. He has now retired and beside hunting, fishing, camping, prospecting and playing golf he amuses himself by writing.
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