| Orpheus with his Lute made Trees
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring.
Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
William Shakespeare
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Orpheus with his lute made trees, printed, has gone upon my refrigerator, for the delectation of the luthier himself.
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