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 | The harp and plow |  |
There long I sat, unthinking quite,
And heard the ‘voices of the night:’
Sounds which might puzzle one to tell
Who made them all, this side of hell;
Musquetoes, whose delightful buzz
Might e'en provoke the man of Uz;
Bull-frogs, grum base and barytone,
The drowsy pur-r, and doleful groan;
While from the top of neighboring tree
An owlet whined a symphony—
Such sounds, too, as, I am thinking,
Set your fisherman to winking,
For music, tho' it opes the ears,
Oft shuts the eyes of him who hears.
And heard the ‘voices of the night:’
Sounds which might puzzle one to tell
Who made them all, this side of hell;
Musquetoes, whose delightful buzz
Might e'en provoke the man of Uz;
Bull-frogs, grum base and barytone,
The drowsy pur-r, and doleful groan;
While from the top of neighboring tree
An owlet whined a symphony—
Such sounds, too, as, I am thinking,
Set your fisherman to winking,
For music, tho' it opes the ears,
Oft shuts the eyes of him who hears.
| The harp and plow | |