I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face br All radiant and unshadowed of distress, br And as of old, in music measureless, br I heard his golden voice and marked him trace br Under the common thing the hidden grace, br And conjure wonder out of emptiness, br Till mean things put on beauty like a dress br And all the world was an enchanted place. br br And then methought outside a fast locked gate br I mourned the loss of unrecorded words, br Forgotten tales and mysteries half said, br Wonders that might have been articulate, br And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds. br And so I woke and knew that he was dead.