The Poet's Sleep

“ In spite of all I am going to sleep. Put out the lights.” — THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.

EVER when slept the poet his dreams were music.
And in sweet song lived the dear dream once more.
So when from sleep and dreams again he wakes —
Out from the world of symbols passing forth
Into that spirit-world where all is real —
What memoried music, new and exquisite,
Shall strike on ears celestial, — where he walks
Reverent among the immortal melodists !