Music poems
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Over The Darkened City
© Conrad Aiken
The fisherman draws his streaming net from the sea
And sails toward the far-off city, that seems
Like one vague tower.
The dark bow plunges to foam on blue-black waves,
And shrill rain seethes like a ghostly music about him
In a quiet shower.
The Temple of Fame
© Alexander Pope
In that soft season, when descending show'rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;
To The Memory Of Hood
© James Russell Lowell
Another star 'neath Time's horizon dropped,
To gleam o'er unknown lands and seas;
Another heart that beat for freedom stopped,--
What mournful words are these!
The Pine Forest Of The Cascine Near Pisa
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
We wandered to the Pine Forest
That skirts the Ocean's foam,
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.
Henny
© George Ade
REFRAIN
Henny, oh, Henny, come to me,
Across the wet and salty sea.
I'm longing for the happy day
When I can hear my Henny play:
On Music
© Walter Savage Landor
MANY love music but for musics sake;
Many because her touches can awake
Thoughts that repose within the breast half dead,
And rise to follow where she loves to lead.
Fireflies
© Rabindranath Tagore
My fancies are fireflies,
Specks of living light
twinkling in the dark.
The Harp Of India
© Henry Louis Vivian Derozio
Why hang'st thou lonely on yon withered bough?
Unstrung for ever, must thou there remain;
Songs In Sleep
© Anonymous
If I could frame for you in cunning words
The songs my heart in sleep is often singing,
You'd fancy, love, an orquestra of birds
Upon their quivering throats the dawn were bringing.
In The Bazaars of Hyderabad
© Sarojini Naidu
What do you sell O ye merchants ?
Richly your wares are displayed.
Turbans of crimson and silver,
Tunics of purple brocade,
Mirrors with panels of amber,
Daggers with handles of jade.
A Word To Philosophers
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
COLD philosophers, so apt
With your formulas exacting,
In your problems so enwrapt,
And your theories distracting;
Awake! Awake!
© Alfred Austin
``Awake, awake, for the Springtime's sake,
March daffodils too long dreaming;
Prevision
© Aline Murray Kilmer
I know you are too dear to stay;
You are so exquisitely sweet:
My lonely house will thrill some day
To echoes of your eager feet.
Night-Scene in Genoa
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
He pauses - from the partiarch's brow
There beams more lofty grandeur now;
His reverend form, his aged hand,
Assume a gesture of command,
His voice is awful, and his eye
Fill's with prophetic majesty.
Kiama Revisited
© Henry Kendall
WE STOOD by the window and hearkened
To the voice of the runnels sea-driven,
