The Dream I Our life is twofold; sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence; Sleep hathits own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears and tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being; they become A portion of ourselves as of our time, And look like heralds of eternity; They pass like spirites of the past. -They speak Like sibyls f the future; they have power- the tyranny of pleasure and of pain; They make us what we were not --- What they will And shake us with the vision thats gone by, the dread of Vanish;d shadows---are they so? Is not the past all shadow? What are they?? Creations of the mind? ---The mind can make Substance and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh. I would recall a vision which I dream'd Perchance in sleep for ---in itself a thought, A slumbering thought, is capable of years, And curdles a long life into one hour. Lord Byron