In this short song from Shakespeare, the legendary musician Orpheus plays his lute, and everything in nature responds with enchanted obedience. Trees uproot themselves to listen, frozen mountain peaks bow, and flowers spring up as though it were always spring. Even the restless waves of the sea droop their heads and lie still. The speaker isn't merely recalling a myth—he's marveling at music's power over a troubled spirit. The final lines turn inward, claiming that such sweet art can soothe our cares and grief to sleep, or even let them die away completely. The mood is hushed and mesmerizing, as if the verse itself wants to still the world around you. A gentle wonder runs through it, leaving the sense that music can suspend time and heal what hurts.
Orpheus with his Lute Made Trees — Summary
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.