Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

IN sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest

Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope.

The eddying of her garments caught from thee

The light of thy great presence; and the cope

Of the half-attained futurity,

Though deep not fathomless,

Was cloven with the million stars which tremble

O’er the deep mind of dauntless infancy.

*****

Sure she was nigher to heaven’s spheres,

Listening the lordly music flowing from

The illimitable years.