| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 449. “Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made of” |
| | | By Thomas Wentworth Higginson |
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| NOW all the cloudy shapes that float and lie | |
| Within this magic globe we call the brain | |
| Fold quite away, condense, withdraw, refrain, | |
| And show it tenantless—an empty sky. | |
| Return, O parting visions, pass not by; | 5 |
| Nor leave me vacant still, with strivings vain, | |
| Longing to grasp at your dim garment’s train, | |
| And be drawn on to sleep’s immunity. | |
| I lie and pray for fancies hovering near; | |
| Oblivion’s kindly troop, illusions blest; | 10 |
| Dim, trailing phantoms in a world too clear; | |
| Soft, downy, shadowy forms, my spirit’s nest; | |
| The warp and woof of sleep; till, freed from fear, | |
| I drift in sweet enchantment back to rest. | |
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