Music poems
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The Bird and the Hour
© Archibald Lampman
The sun looks over a little hill
And floods the valley with gold-
The Columbiad: Book IX
© Joel Barlow
Shrouded in deeper darkness now he veers
The vast gyration of a thousand years,
Strikes out each lamp that would illume his way,
Disputes his food with every beast of prey;
Imbands his force to fence his trist abodes,
A wretched robber with his feudal codes.
Mine
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O HOW my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
And I drink up joy like wine:
O how my heart is beating as her name I keep repeating,
For the lovely girl is mine!
Evening. By a Tailor
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.
Hope, An Allegorical Sketch
© William Lisle Bowles
I am the comforter of them that mourn;
My scenes well shadowed, and my carol sweet,
The Idlers Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. November
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ACROSS COUNTRY
November's here. Once more the pink we don,
And on old Centaur, at the coverside,
Sit changing pleasant greetings one by one
Poets Of The Olden Time
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE brave old poets sing of nobler themes
Than those weak griefs which harass craven souls;
The torrent of their lusty music rolls
Not through dark valleys of distempered dreams,
The Choir At Pixley
© Edgar Albert Guest
The choir we had in Pixley wasn't much for looks an' styles,
But today if I could hear it I would walk a hundred miles;
A Saint
© Padraic Colum
THE stir of children with fresh dresses on,
And men who meet and say unguarded words,
And women from the coops
Of drudgeries released;
Gitanjali
© Rabindranath Tagore
1.
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
The Woodland Hallo
© Robert Bloomfield
In our cottage, that peeps from the skirts of the wood,
I am mistress, no mother have I;
Shakespeare
© Henry Ames Blood
There, too, that Spanish galleon of a hulk,
Ben Jonson, lying at full length,
Should so dispose his goodly bulk
That he might lie at ease upon his back,
To test the tone and strength
Of Bonifaces sherris-sack.
The Fairy Of The Fountains
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
And a youthful warrior stands
Gazing not upon those bands,
Not upon the lovely scene,
But upon its lovelier queen,
Who with gentle word and smile
Courteous prays his stay awhile.
Songs Set To Music: 15. Set By Mr. De Fesch
© Matthew Prior
Farewell, Amynta, we must part;
The charm has lost its power
Which held so fast my captived heart
Until this fatal hour.
The Clear Vision
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I did but dream. I never knew
What charms our sternest season wore.
A Lament
© Charles Harpur
Ah! what can be flowers in their gladness to me,
Or the voices that people the green forest tree,
Or the full joy of streamssince my soul sighs, ah me!
Oer the grave of my Mary.
The Shadow And The Light
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The fourteen centuries fall away
Between us and the Afric saint,
And at his side we urge, to-day,
The immemorial quest and old complaint.
On A Music Box
© Frances Anne Kemble
Poor little sprite! in that dark, narrow cell
Caged by the law of man's resistless might!
