An Aspiration.

Music, with the tears in it, Through my soul is ringing, Moods like bodies flame and flit Through the spirit's singing; Dream-birds half-articulate, Which no charms can capture, Come by twos and nest and mate In a moment's rapture. Now I seem to be upborne On a starry pinion Where the poet's hope forlorn Has divine dominion — Where he sees the clouds of earth Gather light and cluster, As babes on the dawn of Birth Watch the visions muster! All that thought and feeling share In a soul's possession To my singing seems to bear A divine confession; As within my dreaming brain Lips of inspiration Breathe the beauty gone again On a new creation.