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.