UNSUNG.
As sweet as the breath that goes From the lips of the white rose, As weird as the elfin lights That glimmer of frosty nights, As wild as the winds that tear The curled red leaf in the air, Is the song I have never sung.
In slumber, a hundred times I have said the mystic rhymes, But ere I open my eyes This ghost of a poem flies; Of the interfluent strains Not even a note remains: I know by my pulses' beat It was something wild and sweet, And my heart is strangely stirred By an unremembered word!
I strive, but I strive in vain, To recall the lost refrain. On some miraculous day Perhaps it will come and stay;