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For Music

 THERE be none of Beauty's daughters 
 With a magic like thee; 
And like music on the waters 
 Is thy sweet voice to me: 
When, as if its sound were causing 
The charmed ocean's pausing, 
The waves lie still and gleaming, 
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming: 

And the midnight moon is weaving 
 Her bright chain o'er the deep; 
Whose breast is gently heaving, 
 As an infant's asleep: 
So the spirit bows before thee, 
To listen and adore thee; 
With a full but soft emotion, 
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.

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