There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies
Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep
Down from the blissful skies
Here are cool mosses deep
And thro' the moss the ivies creep
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep