Classic Poem

There's music, music, everywhere,
Whose artless notes are sweet;
Anthems that linger on the air,
And in the calm retreat.

There's music in the zephyr's sigh,
And in the breath of flowers,
And in the still small voice that's nigh,
And in the summer hours.

There's music in the plaintive pine,
And in the rustling leaf,
And in the prayer at holy shrine,
And in the joy of grief.

There's music in the waterfall,
And in the song of bird,
And in the cricket's chirping call,
And in a kindly word.

There's music in the surging sea,
And in the whispering shell,
And in the wind that's ever free,
And in the marriage-bell.

There's music in the bosom's thrill,
And in the heart's true beat,
And in the twilight on the hill,
And tread of angel-feet.

There's music in the golden spheres,
That chant the hymn of time;
And in the bright celestial years,
Eternal and sublime.