A Song In A Dream.

I dreamed of a song, I heard it sung;     In the ear that sleeps not its music rung.     And the tones were upheld by harmonies deep,     Where the spirit floated; yea, soared, on their sweep     With each wild unearthly word and tone,     Upward, it knew not whither bound,     In a calm delirium of mystic sound--     Up, where the Genius of Thought alone     Loveth in silence to drink his fill     Of dews that from unknown clouds distil.     A woman's voice the deep echoes awoke,     In the caverns and solitudes of my soul;     But such a voice had never broke     Through the sea of sounds that about us roll,     Choking the ear in the daylight strife.     There was sorrow and triumph, and death and life     In each chord-note of that prophet-song,     Blended in one harmonious throng:     Such a chant, ere my voice has fled from death,     Be it mine to mould of the parting breath.