A herald soul before its master’s flying Touched by some few moons first the darkling goal Where shades rose up to greet the shade, espying A herald soul;

Shades of dead lords of music, who control Men living by the might of men undying, With strength of strains that make delight of dole.

The deep dense dust on death’s dim threshold lying Trembled with sense of kindling sound that stole Through darkness, and the night gave ear, descrying A herald soul.