There is music in the storm, love,
When the tempest rages high;
It whispers in the summer breeze
A soft, sweet lullaby.
There is music in the night,
When the joyous nightingale,
Clear warbling, filleth with his song
The hillside and the vale.
Then sing, sing, sing,
For music breathes in everything.
There is music by the shore, love,
When foaming billows dash;
It echoes in the thunder peal,
When vivid lightnings flash.
There is music by the shore,
In the stilly noon of night,
When the murmurs of the ocean fade
In the clear moonlight.
There is music in the soul, love,
When it hears the gushing swell,
Which, like a dream intensely soft,
Peals from the lily-bell.
There is music--music deep
In the soul that looks on high,
When myriad sparkling stars sing out
Their pure sphere harmony.
There is music in the glance, love,
Which speaketh from the heart,
Of a sympathy in souls
That never more would part.
There is music in the note
Of the cooing turtle-dove;
There is music in the voice
Of dear ones whom we love.
There is music everywhere, love,
To the pure of spirit given;
And sweetest music heard on earth
But whispers that of heaven.
Oh, all is music there--
'Tis the language of the sky--
Sweet hallelujahs there resound
Eternal harmony.
Then sing, sing, sing,
For music breathes in everything.