Soft is the music that would charm for ever;The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.

Three years she grew in sun and shower,/ Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower/ On earth was never sown;/ This child I to myself will take;/ She shall be mine, and I will make/ A Lady of my own.

To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more

How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.

Music hath charm to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.