Mine is the music of the woods and waves,
I strike the strings, and give the grand octaves;
The mighty tones are mine
Of mountain and of pine,
And loud upon the listless ear of morn
I wind my wakening horn.
I am the wing-foot wanderer, that brings
A thousand greetings of a thousand things!
My chariot mists among
I sing the welkin's song;
And when the moon is on the moaning deep
I sob the world to sleep.
At my demand the monstrous ocean raves,
And shakes the shore, and rends the rocks and caves;
The thunder-clouds and I
Hold earth and sea and sky,
And none can stay my stormy path, until
One whispers, "Peace, be still."
