Music poems
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Tam O 'Shanter
© Robert Burns
This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter:
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses.)
Clouds
© Madison Julius Cawein
All through the tepid Summer night
The starless sky had poured a cool
Monotony of pleasant rain
In music beautiful.
Love
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Deola Thinking
© Cesare Pavese
Deola passes her mornings sitting in a cafe,
and nobody looks at her. Everyone’s rushing to work,
Slow, Slow, Fresh Fount
© Benjamin Jonson
Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears;
Yet slower, yet, O faintly, gentle springs!
Stray Birds 51 - 60
© Rabindranath Tagore
51
YOUR idol is shattered in the dust
to prove that God's dust is greater than
your idol.
Sonnet XVII: My Poet, Thou Canst Touch
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
Lenten Song
© Phillis Levin
That the dead are real to us
Cannot be denied,
That the living are more real
Effort at Speech Between Two People
© Katha Pollitt
: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.
When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit
who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair :
a pink rabbit : it was my birthday, and a candle
burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.
The Ghost
© Richard Harris Barham
There stands a City,- neither large nor small,
Its air and situation sweet and pretty;
Upon Wedlock, and Death of Children
© Edward Taylor
A Curious Knot God made in Paradise,
And drew it out inamled neatly Fresh.
It was the True-Love Knot, more sweet than spice
And set with all the flowres of Graces dress.
Its Weddens Knot, that ne're can be unti'de.
No Alexanders Sword can it divide.
Leave the Hand In
© John Ashbery
Furthermore, Mr. Tuttle used to have to run in the streets.
Now, each time friendship happens, they’re fully booked.
Essay on Psychiatrists
© Robert Pinsky
It's crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eyes and ears—
As though they were all alike any more
Fragment 5: Whom should I choose for my Judge?
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
What is the meed of thy Song? 'Tis the ceaseless, the thousandfold Echo
Which from the welcoming Hearts of the Pure repeats and prolongs it,
Each with a different Tone, compleat or in musical fragments.
For Laurel and Hardy on My Workroom Wall
© David Wagoner
Theyre tipping their battered derbies and striding forward
In step for a change, chipper, self-assured,
Epilogue To Tancred And Sigismunda
© James Thomson
Cramm'd to the throat with wholesome moral stuff,
Alas! poor audience! you have had enough.
Was ever hapless heroine of a play
In such a piteous plight as ours to-day?
