I FELT my sorrow ere it came,
As storms are felt on high
Before a single cloud denote
Their presence in the sky.

The heart has omens deep and true,
That ask no aid from words;
Like viewless music from the harp,
With none to wake its chords.

Strange, subtle, are these mysteries,
And linked with unknown powers,
Marking mysterious links that bind
The spirit world to ours.