midnight
He will leave not many living friends , when he goes to join the dead , where his thoughts often stray , and he might better be . I steal into his sleep , and play my part among the figures of his dreams . I glide through the moonlight of his waking fancy , and whisper conceptions , which , with a strange thrill of fear , he writes down as his own . I stand beside him now , at midnight , telling these dreamy truths with a voice so dream-like , that he mistakes them for fictions of a brain too prone to such . Yet he glances behind him and shivers , while the lamp burns pale . Farewell , dreamer , -- waking or sleeping ! Your brightest dreams are fled ; your mind grows too hard and cold for a spiritual guest to enter ; you are earthly , too , and have all the sins of earth .