Let other bards their harps attune To sing of gold and courts and kings; But leave to me the hush of June, The music that the forest sings. Let other bards from fields of blood Send up their hymns to mighty Mars; But leave to me the quiet wood, The tender moonlight and the stars. I'll hang my harp upon a tree, Where ev'ry passing breeze may play, And catch the leafy minstrelsy, The music of the shaded way. Yea, I will teach this harp of mine To sing the song the forest sings, To mingle with the sob of pine The silver aspen's whisperings. For I would find that sweetest chord That makes the forest harmony, Would wake at will the music poured To ev'ry zephyr by the tree. To know thee more my spirit longs, O melody of leaves astir.
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