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.