Nature's Minor Chords The stirring of a feathery cloud May wake a thought of richest worth, The dew upon the lily's rim To deepest reverie give birth. Half glimpses caught in idle hours Of shifting lights upon a stream, Some sudden glory in the skies May give the soul a magic dream. The scent of wood-glades when glad Spring Is penciling the dainty leaves, Like subtlest music, round the heart A web of strange enchantment weaves. The robin's carol to the dawn Soothes like the answer to a prayer; The cushat's melancholy plaint May change our mood quite to despair. In Nature's wondrous orchestra, The quiver of a single strain Will poise a thought, and give the soul Most exquisite repose or pain.