There is an organ in my elm
A harp within my maple tree;
And Maestro Wind from each compels
An equal harmony;--
At morning a sonata clear,
A symphony superb at noon;
And with the soft descent of eve
A pure and pensive tune.
What need have I in crowded towns
To seek for grand orchestral scores,
When daily through my casement drift
These airs of out-of-doors!
