A messenger of Hope, comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
He comes with western winds, with evening’s wandering airs,
Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,
But, first, a hush of peace—a soundless calm descends;
Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;
Oh, dreadful is the check—intense the agony—
Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less,