Reality

These are my scales to weigh reality, —
A dream, a chord, a longing, love of Thee.

Real as the violets of April days,
Or those soft-hid in unfrequented ways;

Real as the noiseless tune to which we tread
The measure we by life's old song are led;

Real as man's wonder what his soul may be, —
A guest for time or for eternity.

Real as the ocean, seen, alas! no more,
Whose tide still beats along my heart's inshore.

These are my scales to weigh reality, —
A chord, a dream, a longing, love of Thee!