Music poems
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The Old Pioneers
© Frank Dalby Davison
h, these old friends of ours! Sixty years back,
Bearded and booted, they followed the track,
415. SongThe last time I cam oer the Moor
© Robert Burns
THE LAST time I came oer the moor,
And left Marias dwelling,
What throes, what tortures passing cure,
Were in my bosom swelling:
To The Poet, John Dyer
© William Wordsworth
BARD of the Fleece, whose skilful genius made
That work a living landscape fair and bright;
Nor hallowed less with musical delight
Than those soft scenes through which thy childhood strayed,
Unheard
© Madison Julius Cawein
All things are wrought of melody,
Unheard, yet full of speaking spells;
Within the rock, within the tree,
A soul of music dwells.
449. SongThe Flowery banks of Cree
© Robert Burns
HERE is the glen, and here the bower
All underneath the birchen shade;
The village-bell has told the hour,
O what can stay my lovely maid?
Sonnet. "Blaspheme not thou thy sacred life, nor turn"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Blaspheme not thou thy sacred life, nor turn
O'er joys that God hath for a season lent,
A Front Row Seat To Hear Ole Johnny Sing
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Now you know some fellahs, they want fame and fortune
Yeah, and other fellahs they just wanna swing
But all I wanted all my life
Was a TV set and a truck and a wife
And a front row seat to hear ole Johnny sing.
428. SongPhillis the Queen o the fair
© Robert Burns
ADOWN winding Nith I did wander,
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring;
Adown winding Nith I did wander,
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
The Chantry Of The Cherubim
© Francis William Bourdillon
O CHANTRY of the Cherubim,
Down-looking on the stream!
494. SongFarewell thou stream that winding flows
© Robert Burns
FAREWELL, thou stream that winding flows
Around Elizas dwelling;
O memry! spare the cruel thoes
Within my bosom swelling.
Ode IV: To The Honourable Charles Townshend In The Country
© Mark Akenside
I. 1.
How oft shall i survey
The Suliote Mother
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
She stood upon the loftiest peak,
Amidst the clear blue sky,
A bitter smile was on her cheek,
And a dark flash in her eye.
185. The Humble Petition of Bruar Water
© Robert Burns
MY lord, I know your noble ear
Woe neer assails in vain;
Emboldend thus, I beg youll hear
Your humble slave complain,
The Flight of the Goddess
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
A man should live in a garret aloof,
And have few friends, and go poorly clad,
With an old hat stopping the chink in the roof,
To keep the Goddess constant and glad.
Poppy And Mandragora
© Madison Julius Cawein
Let us go far from here!
Here there is sadness in the early year:
A Poem Beginning With A Line From Pindar
© Robert Duncan
But the eyes in Goyas painting are soft,
diffuse with rapture absorb the flame.
Their bodies yield out of strength.
Waves of visual pleasure
wrap them in a sorrow previous to their impatience.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 09:
© Conrad Aiken
We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence.
You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing
As other nights when we are dead will pass . . .'
Perhaps I misconstrue you: you mean only,
'How deathly pale my face looks in that glass . . .'
Two Christmas Eves
© Edith Nesbit
Don't go to sleep; you mustn't sleep
Here on the frozen floor! Yes, creep
Closer to me. Oh, if I knew
What is this something left to do!
