The Pageant Of Music

Last night I roamed within the dream-confine
That, as a word of magic, strange, unsaid,
Is barrier to the thoughts of day. My tread
Was toward the morn, from whose unclouded shine
Came music, seen and heard in pageantry-
Loud as the ocean's thunder tempest-bred,
Yet fair and delicate as flowers that shed
Their scent on meadows coloured like the sea.

I heard and saw the music of all things -
Their sound-soul visible, that as a dawn,
For one age-moment bared the spirit's night.
Then, with prismatic notes, and voice of light,
And sounds and hues inseparable for wings,
The music-vision faded and was gone.