Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
The Dream
By Levi Frisbie (17831822)S
Soft sleep, still o’er my senses reign;
Stay, loveliest phantom, still deceive me;
Ah! let me dream that dream again.
Thy hand in mine was gently pressed;
Thine eyes, so soft, and full of meaning,
Were bent on me, and I was blest.
The silent transport of the heart:
The tear, that o’er my cheek was stealing,
Told what words could ne’er impart.
Could fancy all so real seem?
Sure fancy’s scenes are wild confusion;
And can it be I did but dream?
Thy very breath stole o’er my cheek;
I’m sure I saw those eyes confessing
What the tongue could never speak.
Mine such waking bliss can be:
Oh! I would sleep, would sleep forever,
Could I thus but dream of thee.