quote · Legacy record
Three wondrous things there are upon the earth, Three gentle spirits, that I love full well, Three glorious voices, which by far excel Even the silver-throated Philomel. For not in sound alone lies music’s worth, But rather in the feeling that it brings, Whether of joy, or peace, or dreaminess. And when I hear the rain soft, softly beat, Singing with low, sweet voice, and musical, I think of all the tears that ever fell In perfect happiness, or deep distress, And so it brings a pang, half sad, half sweet, Into my heart. Then, when the sparkling rill Dances between the sunny banks, and sings For very joy, all dimpling with delight, O all the happy laughter ’neath the sky Rings sweet and clear, and makes the world more bright. And, when the sun has sunk beneath the sea And vanished from the glory of the west, Leaving the peaceful eve to melt to night,— O then it is the loveliest voice of all, The gentle night-wind softly sings to me, Tender and low, as sweetest lullaby As ever hushed a weary head to rest: On, on it sings, until from drowsiness My tired eyes softly close, and all is still.
Three wondrous things there are upon the earth, Three gentle spirits, that I love full well, Three glorious voices, which by far excel Even the silver-throated Philomel. For not in sound alone lies music’s worth, But rather in the feeling that it brings, Whether of joy, or peace, or dreaminess. And when I hear the rain soft, softly beat, Singing with low, sweet voice, and musical, I think of all the tears that ever fell In perfect happiness, or deep distress, And so it brings a pang, half sad, half sweet, Into my heart. Then, when the sparkling rill Dances between the sunny banks, and sings For very joy, all dimpling with delight, O all the happy laughter ’neath the sky Rings sweet and clear, and makes the world more bright. And, when the sun has sunk beneath the sea And vanished from the glory of the west, Leaving the peaceful eve to melt to night,— O then it is the loveliest voice of all, The gentle night-wind softly sings to me, Tender and low, as sweetest lullaby As ever hushed a weary head to rest: On, on it sings, until from drowsiness My tired eyes softly close, and all is still.
In print by 1921 AD · modern
Recorded in a printed collection by this date; the original date of these words is still unknown.
Meaning not yet available
An individual explanation has not yet been added. We do not substitute a generic description for an interpretation of these particular words.
Begin with source-checked readings and explanations ↗Attribution & collection notes
- Author or tradition
- Betty Bray (identity unresolved)
Attribution: unknown - Country attributed
- Not established
A country attribution does not establish the earliest origin. - Historical period
- In print by 1921 AD · modern
In print by 1921: recorded in My Commonplace Book (third English edition,1921). Collection publication is an upper bound for this wording, not its earliest origin, composition date or the author's lifetime.
An author lifetime, approximate period or collection date is not necessarily the date when these words were first written or spoken. - Recorded source
- My Commonplace Book (third English edition,1921) (1921 AD)
Page 154 · printed citation: Betty Bray, 1920 Aged 13. · compiler notes excluded
A collection's publication date can be later than the words it records.