Art thou a thing of earth, that sweetly playing,
Blends in each fitful blast, so tenderly?
Or, art thou from the star-gem’d vault of Heav’n,
Perchance the music of some distant sphere,
That faintly echoes on the gales of even,
To claim from earth—grief’s solitary tear?
Art thou the revelling of some fairy sprite,
Tripping the dewy world fantastically,
To keep its tryst beneath the clear moonlight,
Awak’ning tones of deepest minstrelsy?