I dreamed of a song-I heard it sung; br In the ear of my soul its strange notes rung. br What were its words I could not tell, br Only the voice I heard right well, br For its tones unearthly my spirit bound br In a calm delirium of mystic sound- br Held me floating, alone and high, br Placeless and silent, drinking my fill br Of dews that from cloudless skies distil br On desert places that thirst and sigh. br 'Twas a woman's voice, deep calling to deep, br Rousing old echoes that all day sleep br In cavern and solitude, each apart, br Here and there in the waiting heart;- br A voice with a wild melodious cry br Reaching and longing afar and high. br Sorrowful triumph, and hopeful strife, br Gainful death, and new-born life, br Thrilled in each note of the prophet-song.