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.

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.

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.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance.

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance.

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.

What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, read more

What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!