1 There's music in the midnight breeze,
There's music in the morn;
The daybeam and the gentle eve
Sweet sounds have ever borne;
The valley hath its welcome notes,
The grove its tuneful throng,
And ocean's mighty caverns teem
With nature's endless song.

2 The winds that sweep the mountaintop
Their joyous echoes bear;
Young Zephyrs on the streamlet play.
And make sweet music there;
With rustling sound the forest leaves
Bend to the passing breeze;
And pleasant is the busy hum
Of flower seeking bees.

3 The heart, too, has its thrilling chords,
A consecrated fount,
From which inspiring melodies
To heaven in gladness mount.
Why Nature's music--but that man
May join the myriad throng
Of all her glorious works in one
Harmonious burst of song.