The Oboe.

THE OBOE.

Now come with me beside the sedgy brook,
Far in the fields, away from crowded street;
Into the flowing water let us look,
While o’er our heads the whispering elm-trees meet.
There will we listen to a simple tale
Of fireside pleasures and of shepherds’ loves.
A reedy voice sweet as the nightingale,
As tender as the cooing of the doves,
Shall sing of Corydon and Amaryllis;
The grasshopper shall chirp, the bee shall hum,
The stream shall murmur to the waterlilies,
And all the sounds of summer-noon shall come,
And mingling in the Oboe’s pastoral tone,
Make thee forget that man did ever sigh and moan.