OH! miserable power <br />To dreams allow'd, to raise the guilty past, <br />And back awhile the illumined spirit to cast <br /> On its youth's twilight hour; <br />In mockery guiling it to act again <br />The revel or the scoff in Satan's frantic train! <br /> <br /> Nay, hush thee, angry heart! <br />An Angel's grief ill fits a penitent; <br />Welcome the thorn—it is divinely sent, <br /> And with its wholesome smart <br />Shall pierce thee in thy virtue's palmy home, <br />And warn thee what thou art, and whence thy <br /> wealth has come.<br /><br />John Henry Newman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dreams-19/
