Poetry Archives

I have seen that which sweeter is
  Than happy dreams come true.
I have heard that which echo is
  Of speech past all I ever knew.
Vision and echo, come again,
Nor let me grieve in easeless pain!

It was a hill I saw, that rose
  Like smoke over the street,
Whose greening rampires were upreared
  Suddenly almost at my feet;
And tall trees nodded tremblingly
Making the plain day visionary.

But ah, the song, the song I heard
  And grieve to hear no more!
It was not angel-voice, nor child’s
  Singing alone and happy, nor
Note of the wise prophetic thrush
As lonely in the leafless bush.

It was not these, and yet I knew
  That song; but now, alas,
My unpurged ears prove all too gross
  To keep the nameless air that was
And is not; and my eyes forget
The vision that I follow yet.

Yet though forgetful I did see.
  And heard, but cannot tell,
And on my forehead felt an air
  Unearthly, on my heart a spell.
I have seen that which deathless is,
And heard—what I for ever miss!