Thomas Moore’s verses ring with the idea that music was made to lift the spirits of the lighthearted and ignite affection. The speaker feels that harmony is the very law keeping human souls in motion, like planets wheeling through the heavens. He playfully argues that a lover’s singing voice has far more power than mere beauty: eyes and cheeks can boast, but words only feather the arrow of love; when the beloved sings, the dart strikes straight to the heart.
The second stanza spins a delicate myth. Baby Cupid slumbers in his mother Venus’s arms, and she hushes everyone, insisting only his own sweet voice is worthy to wake him. As he dreams, a soft melody escapes his lips, and he opens his eyes to the sound of his own music, while Venus smiles. It’s a tender fable that makes music feel like love’s native language. The whole poem dances with a light, enchanted mood, as if the reader is being coaxed to sing along.