MUSIC OF GROWTH.

Music is in all growing things;

And underneath the silky wings

Of smallest insects there is stirred

A pulse of air that must be heard.

Earth's silence lives, and throbs, and sings.

If poet from the vibrant strings

Of his poor heart a measure flings,

Laugh not, that he no trumpet blows:

It may be that Heaven hears and knows

His language of low listenings.