Once a dream did weave a shade

O’er my Angel-guarded bed,

That an Emmet lost its way

Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, ‘wilder’d, and forlorn,

Dark, benighted, travel-worn,

Over many a tangled spray,

All heart-broken I heard her say:

“O, my children! do they cry?

Do they hear their father sigh?

Now they look abroad to see:

Now return and weep for me.”

Pitying, I drop’d a tear;

But I saw a glow-worm near,

Who replied: “What wailing wight

Calls the watchman of the night?