Ii

Would you know what makes the music? On each slender, quivering blade There are notes and chords and phrases by the bees and crickets played; And the grasshoppers and locusts strive each other to surpass In their brave interpretation of the music in the grass. By the roguish breezes tossed You might think it would get lost, But the careful fairies guard it, watching closely as they pass. So on every summer day, Sounding faint and far away, Is the mystic, murmuring marvel of the music in the grass.