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