Music poems
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Tale XVI
© George Crabbe
cause -
This creature frights her, overpowers, and awes."
Six weeks had pass'd--"In truth, my love, this
She Sat Alone Beside Her Hearth
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
SHE sat alone beside her hearth
For many nights alone;
She slept not on the pleasant couch
Where fragrant herbs were strewn.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 08:
© Conrad Aiken
Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its tower
Ticks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour:
At the deep sudden stroke the pigeons fly . . .
The fine snow flutes the cracks between the flagstones.
We close our coats, and hurry, and search the sky.
To The Painted Columbine
© Jones Very
Bright image of the early years
When glowed my cheek as red as thou,
And life's dark throng of cares and fears
Were swift-winged shadows o'er my sunny brow!
The Deserted Pasture
© Bliss William Carman
I love the stony pasture
That no one else will have.
The old gray rocks so friendly seem,
So durable and brave.
Widderins Race. Australian.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
"A HORSE amongst ten thousand! on the verge,
The extremest verge of equine life he stands;
Yet mark his action, as those wild young colts
Freed from the stock-yard gallop whinnying up;
See how he trots towards them,--nose in air,
Tail arched, and his still sinewy legs out-thrown
George Chapman:XI
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
HIGH priest of Homer, not elect in vain,
Deep trumpets blow before thee, shawms behind
St. Luke
© John Keble
Two clouds before the summer gale
In equal race fleet o'er the sky:
Two flowers, when wintry blasts assail,
Together pins, together die.
Peace
© Swami Vivekananda
Behold, it comes in might,
The power that is not power,
The light that is in darkness,
The shade in dazzling light.
On Sacrificing To The Kings Woo, Ching, And K'ang
© Confucius
The arm of Woo was full of might;
None could his fire withstand;
And Ching and K'ang stood forth to sight,
As kinged by God's own hand.
Accolon Of Gaul: Part I
© Madison Julius Cawein
"Will love grow less when dead the roguish Spring,
Who from gay eyes sowed violets whispering;
Peach petals in wild cheeks, wan-wasted thro'
Of withering grief, laid lovely 'neath the dew,
Will love grow less?
Music
© Wilfred Owen
I have been gay with trivial fifes that laugh;
And songs more sweet than possible things are sweet;
And gongs, and oboes. Yet I guessed not half
Life's symphony till I had made hearts beat,
And touched Love's body into trembling cries,
And blown my love's lips into laughs and sighs.
Wings
© Emma Lazarus
DAWN opes her pensive eyes,
In the yet starry skies,
A roseate blush upon her cheek and brows.
Her purple mantle still
Lies on the sky-kissed hill,
And a blue, solemn shade thereon it throws.
Sure Hit Songwriters Pen
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Now I was hangin' round Nashville writin' songs and playin' 'em for all of the stars
Watchin' 'em laugh and hand 'em back livin' on hope and Hershey bars
So I pawned my guitar and bought a ticket home and I's headin' for the Trailway bus
When I seen an old fountain pen laying in the gutter so I stopped and picked it up
Joan Of Arc, In Rheims
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou hast a charmed cup, O Fame!
A draught that mantles high,
And seems to lift this earth-born frame
Above mortality:
Away! to me a woman bring
Sweet waters from affection's spring.
Music in an Empty House
© Hugh Sykes Davies
The house was empty and
the people of the house
gone many months
Siste Viator
© Augusta Davies Webster
WHAT is it that is dead?
Somewhere there is a grave, and something lies
Cold in the ground, and stirs not for my sighs,
Nor songs that I can make, nor smiles from me,
Nor tenderest foolish words that I have said;
Something that was has hushed, and will not be.
Idyll XVII. The Praise of Ptolemy
© Theocritus
"Wake, babe, to bliss: prize me, as Phoebus doth
His azure-sphered Delos: grace the hill
Of Triops, and the Dorians' sister shores,
As king Apollo his Rhenaea's isle."
The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Prince Henry_ The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.
A Hidden Life
© George MacDonald
Ah God! when Beauty passes by the door,
Although she ne'er came in, the house grows bare.
Shut, shut the door; there's nothing in the house.
Why seems it always that it should be ours?
A secret lies behind which Thou dost know,
And I can partly guess.
