Shadows I have seen

Is it a silhouette of memory,

Or a shadow I have seen—

In the brief moments

'twixt waking and sleep,

in the small space which intervenes?

The fleeting seconds or less

(ah! can such things be?)

When confusion still lingers—

and life's real that dreams’

scenes blur so strangely mix'd.

When I shall open my eyes

to find her beside me;

behold the shape of her face

and a visage of a smile upon it.

Or if instead I am wakened

by past times' laughter,

my children playing outside—

whilst my mistakes lay ahead

yet unmade, not looming behind.

The remnants of my memories

take form as reveries

preventing mine forgetting

that is advised dismissed!

Yet still, I am unconvinced...

How can reveries or dreams

not be thought real but a lie

when it is in such moments

I still dare to believe I am alive?