What Dreams May Come True

In the vale of years beneath

A griesly troop are seen

The painful family of Death

More hideous than their Queen



To each his suff'rings: all the same

Conemn’d alike to groan

The tender for another's pain

Th' unfeeling for his own

And happiness too swiftly flies

When sign comes to bless

For to come destroy their paradise

The ignorance is bliss



“To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”