Oh It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets

Long, long ago ago I read, from Harpo Marx,

Of how the Christians' music was so great

That, though their worship we don't celebrate,

We ought to listen--as to meadowlarks

Whose music fill the forest and the parks,

With meanings we don't recognize or rate.

I think he's right; once we disaggregate

The million Jesuses and thousand Harks

There still remain some songs (like Silent Night

His favorite) that speak so to the soul 

That in despite of all theology

They satisfy. A music of such might

It almost serves to elevate the whole

And make a truth out of a heresy.