Dreams

'Tis strange! I saw the Skies
I saw the Hills before mine Eys;
The Sparrow fly;
The Lands that did about me ly;
The reall Sun, that hev'nly Ey!
Can closed Eys ev'n in the darkest Night
See throu their Lids, & be inform'd with Sight?

The Peeple were to me
As tru as those by day I see;
As tru the Air,
The Earth as sweet, as fresh, as fair
As that which did by day repair
Unto my waking Sense! Can ah the Sky,
Can all the World, within my Brain-pan ly?

What sacred Secret's this,
Which seems to intimat my Bliss?
What is there in
The narrow Confines of my Skin,
That is alive & feels within
When I am dead? Can Magnitude possess
An activ Memory, yet not be less?

May all that I can see
Awake, by Night within me be?
My Childhood knew
No Difference, but all was Tru,
As Reall all as what I view;
The World its Self was there. 'Twas wondrous strange
That Hev'n & Earth should so their place exchange.

Till that which vulgar Sense
Doth falsly call Experience,
Distinguisht things:
The Ribbans, & the gaudy Wings
Of Birds, the Virtues, & the Sins,
That represented were in Dreams by night
As really my Senses did delight,

Or griev, as those I saw
By day: Things terrible did aw
My Soul with Fear;
The Apparitions seem'd as near
As Things could be, & Things they were:
Yet were they all by Fancy in me wrought,
And all their Being sounded in a Thought.

O what a Thing is Thought!
Which seems a Dream; yea, seemeth Nought,
Yet doth the Mind
Affect as much as what we find
Most near & tru! Sure Men are blind,
And can't the forcible Reality
Of things that Secret are within them see.

Thought! Surely Thoughts are tru;
They pleas as much as 7Things can do:
Nay Things are dead,
And in themselvs are severed
From Souls; nor can they fill the Head
Without our Thoughts. Thoughts are the Reall things
From whence all Joy, from whence all Sorrows springs.