There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dew on the still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass Music that gentler on the spirit lies Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes. (Alfred, Lord Tennyson)

There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dew on the still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass Music that gentler on the spirit lies Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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