Music poems
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Dancing Tango
© Sheema Kalbasi
Oh, Orlando!
Remember the night we danced
quietly on the sands where music
was played? Your words were
wonderers, said quietly
in the pockets of my ears.
To Dan
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
STEP me now a bridal measure,
Work give way to love and leisure,
Hearts be free and hearts be gay --
Doctor Dan doth wed to-day.
When Malindy Sings
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy--
Put dat music book away;
What's de use to keep on tryin'?
Ef you practise twell you're gray,
Weekend Glory
© Maya Angelou
Some clichty folks
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.
As Consequent, Etc.
© Walt Whitman
AS consequent from store of summer rains,
Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing,
Or many a herb-lined brooks reticulations,
Or subterranean sea-rills making for the sea,
Song of the Exposition.
© Walt Whitman
1
AFTER all, not to create only, or found only,
But to bring, perhaps from afar, what is already founded,
To give it our own identity, average, limitless, free;
As Toilsome I Wanderd.
© Walt Whitman
AS toilsome I wanderd Virginias woods,
To the music of rustling leaves, kickd by my feet, (for twas autumn,)
I markd at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier,
Mortally wounded he, and buried on the retreat, (easily all could I understand;)
Or from that Sea of Time.
© Walt Whitman
1
OR, from that Sea of Time,
Spray, blown by the winda double winrow-drift of weeds and shells;
(O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless!
Sing of the Banner at Day-Break.
© Walt Whitman
POET.
O A NEW song, a free song,
Flapping, flapping, flapping, flapping, by sounds, by voices clearer,
By the winds voice and that of the drum,
As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free.
© Walt Whitman
1
AS a strong bird on pinions free,
Joyous, the amplest spaces heavenward cleaving,
Such be the thought Id think to-day of thee, America,
France, the 18th year of These States.
© Walt Whitman
1
A GREAT year and place;
A harsh, discordant, natal scream out-sounding, to touch the mothers heart closer
than
Mystic Trumpeter, The.
© Walt Whitman
1
HARK! some wild trumpetersome strange musician,
Hovering unseen in air, vibrates capricious tunes to-night.
Italian Music in Dakota.
© Walt Whitman
THROUGH the soft evening air enwrinding all,
Rocks, woods, fort, cannon, pacing sentries, endless wilds,
In dulcet streams, in flutes and cornets notes,
Electric, pensive, turbulent artificial,
Salut au Monde.
© Walt Whitman
1
O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such joind unended links, each hookd to the next!
Warble for Lilac-Time.
© Walt Whitman
WARBLE me now, for joy of Lilac-time,
Sort me, O tongue and lips, for Natures sake, and sweet lifes sakeand
deaths the same as lifes,
Souvenirs of earliest summerbirds eggs, and the first berries;
A Carol of Harvest, for 1867
© Walt Whitman
1
A SONG of the good green grass!
A song no more of the city streets;
A song of farmsa song of the soil of fields.
Poets to Come.
© Walt Whitman
POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me, and answer what I am for;
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known,
Arouse! Arousefor you must justify meyou must answer.
Singer in the Prison, The.
© Walt Whitman
1
O sight of shame, and pain, and dole!
O fearful thoughta convict Soul!
RANG the refrain along the hall, the prison,
Cavalry Crossing a Ford.
© Walt Whitman
A LINE in long array, where they wind betwixt green islands;
They take a serpentine coursetheir arms flash in the sunHark to the musical
clank;
Behold the silvery riverin it the splashing horses, loitering, stop to drink;
Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun.
© Walt Whitman
1
GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling;
Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard;
Give me a field where the unmowd grass grows;
