The bleating of flocks and the lowing of herds,
The breathing of nature from earth to the sky—
All combine to make music with cadence as sweet
To the ear of the mortal, as the music of spheres,
Gentle wooed from the harp at Infinity’s feet
And as softly let fall on angelical ears.
Like the soft flakes of snow as they fall on the deep,
The rhythmical notes adown tremblingly go
On the listening air, and as silently sleep
In the ocean of joys, where they melt as the snow.