Canto XCII

If any vision should reveal    Thy likeness, I might count it vain    As but the canker of the brain; Yea, tho' it spake and made appeal

To chances where our lots were cast    Together in the days behind,    I might but say, I hear a wind Of memory murmuring the past.

Yea, tho' it spake and bared to view    A fact within the coming year;    And tho' the months, revolving near, Should prove the phantom-warning true,

They might not seem thy prophecies,    But spiritual presentiments,    And such refraction of events As often rises ere they rise.

-Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A. H. H., Canto XCII