298
A DREAM OF SONGS UNSUNG
Oh, the music sweet and strange
In that land's enchanted range!
Like the pealing of the bells
When the brazen flowers are swinging
And the angelus is ringing,
Soaring, echoing, far and near,
Through the vales and up the dells—
Softly on the enraptured ear
A melodious murmur swells!
As the rhythm of the river
Day and night goes on forever,
So that pulsing stream of song
Rolls its silver waves along.
Even silence is but sound,
Deeper, softer, more profound!
In that land's enchanted range!
Like the pealing of the bells
When the brazen flowers are swinging
And the angelus is ringing,
Soaring, echoing, far and near,
Through the vales and up the dells—
Softly on the enraptured ear
A melodious murmur swells!
As the rhythm of the river
Day and night goes on forever,
So that pulsing stream of song
Rolls its silver waves along.
Even silence is but sound,
Deeper, softer, more profound!
All the portals were thrown wide!
Stretching far on either side
Ran the streets, like silver mist,
By the moon's pale splendor kissed;
And adown the shadowy way,
Forth from many a still retreat,
One by one, and two by two,
Or in goodly companies;
Gliding on in long array,
Light and fleet, with silent feet,
One by one, and two by two,
Phantoms that I could not number,
Countless as the wraiths of slumber,
Passed before my wondering eyes!
Stretching far on either side
Ran the streets, like silver mist,
By the moon's pale splendor kissed;
And adown the shadowy way,
Forth from many a still retreat,
One by one, and two by two,
Or in goodly companies;
Gliding on in long array,
Light and fleet, with silent feet,
One by one, and two by two,
Phantoms that I could not number,
Countless as the wraiths of slumber,
Passed before my wondering eyes!
Then I grew aware of one
Standing by me in the dun,
Gray half-twilight. All the place
Grew softly radiant; but his face,
Standing by me in the dun,
Gray half-twilight. All the place
Grew softly radiant; but his face,
