To all proportioned terms he must dispense
And make the sound a picture of the sense.

To all proportioned terms he must dispense
And make the sound a picture of the sense.

The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass.

The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass.

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is read more

My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping read more

A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Parent of sweetest sounds, yet mute forever.

Parent of sweetest sounds, yet mute forever.

I hear a sound so fine there's nothing lives
'Twixt it and silence.

I hear a sound so fine there's nothing lives
'Twixt it and silence.

A thousand trills and quivering sounds
In airy circles o'er us fly,
Till, wafted by a gentle read more

A thousand trills and quivering sounds
In airy circles o'er us fly,
Till, wafted by a gentle breeze,
They faint and languish by degrees,
And at a distance die.