Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.
For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.
What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
He makes no friend who never made a foe.