Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/319

Albeit unveiled, I could not see
For the awe that compassed me.
Swift I spoke, by longings swayed
Deeper than my words betrayed:
"Master," with clasped hands I prayed,
"Who are these? Are they the dead?"
"Nay, they never lived," he said;
"Whence art thou? How camest thou here?"
Low I answered, then, in fear:
"Sir, I know not; as I lay
Dreaming at the close of day,
Wondrous music, thrilling through me,
To this land of phantoms drew me,
Though I knew not how or why,
Even as instinct draws the bird
Where Spring's far-off voice is heard.
Tell me, Master, where am I?"
"Thou art in the border-land,
On the farthest, utmost strand
Of the sea that lies between
All that is and is not seen.
Thou art where the wraiths of song
Come and go, a phantom throng.
'Tis their heart's melodious beat
Fills the air with whispers sweet!
These, O child, are songs unsung—
Songs unbreathed by human tongue;
These are they that all in vain
Mightiest masters wooed amain—
Children of their heart and brain
That they could not warm to life
By their being's utmost strife.
Every bard that ever sung
Since the hoary earth was young
Knew the song he could not sing