To a Lady, XXII

I slept; but yet I was not dead For breath still fluttered nigh; And now, a strain of music shed, Came mournful as a sigh! Was it some spirit’s harp I heard, Far in the land of dreams? Was it the song of Eden’s bird? Was it the lull of streams? What was it? for I did not know But ’twas an angel band Come down, to bear me from below, Up to the Spirit-land!

It murmur’d—rose—swell’d high and clear: Then sunk, and sunk away, like Fear Holding her breath. Again, it swell’d! I thought some fairy’s death-peal knell’d.