As in Vision

Sometimes in heaven-sent dreams I do behold
A city with its turrets high in air,
Its gates that gleam with jewels strange and rare,
And streets that glow with burning of red gold;
And happy souls, through blessedness grown bold,
Thrill with their praises all the radiant air,
And God himself is light, and shineth there
On glories tongue of man hath never told.

And in my dreams I thither march, nor stay
To heed earth's voices, howso'er they call,
Or proffers of the joys of this brief day,
On which so soon the sunset shadows fall;
I see the gleaming gates, and toward them press—
What though my path lead through the wilderness?