24

Happy’s the man, occupied with eternal fate,
Who, like a traveller setting out as day breaks,
Awakens, his mind filled with reverie,
And at daybreak begins to read and pray!
As he reads, the day is slowly coming nigh:
It dawns in his soul as in the high sky.
He sees distinctly, in this pale light,
Things in his room and sees in-self insight;
He alone believes, as everyone else sleeps.
And yet, with hushing fingers upon their lips,
Behind him, as ecstasy has him moonstruck,
The still-smiling angels lean over his book.

Paris, September 1842.