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He had his dream, and all through life, Worked up to it through toil and strife. Afloat fore'er before his eyes, It colored for him all his skies: The storm-cloud dark Above his bark, The calm and listless vault of blue Took on its hopeful hue, It tinctured every passing beam— He had his dream. He labored hard and failed at last, His sails too weak to bear the blast, The raging tempests tore away And sent his beating bark astray. But what cared he For wind or sea! He said, "The tempest will be short, My bark will come to port." He saw through every cloud a gleam— He had his dream. |