Music poems

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The first who lovd me turnd wth tender eyes
Since ye rogue will why lett us sail she cryes
Her kind consent was sure for Love is kind
& Woman's Love when Love has won her mind
The second stopd then with a careless moan
Tis welltis dang'rous to be left alone

Realities

© Kenneth Slessor

(To the etchings of Norman Lindsay)
Now the statues lean over each to each, and sing,
Gravely in warm plaster turning; the hedges are dark.
The trees come suddenly to flower with moonlight,

The Screech-Owl

© Madison Julius Cawein

When, one by one, the stars have trembled through

Eve's shadowy hues of violet, rose, and fire--

Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - II.

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The jolly skipper paused awhile,
And then again began;
"There is a Spectre Ship," quoth he,
"A ship of the Dead that sails the sea,
And is called the Carmilhan.

The Golden Legend: II. A Farm In The Odenwald

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

_Elsie._ Here are flowers for you,
But they are not all for you.
Some of them are for the Virgin
And for Saint Cecilia.

To Idleness

© Harriet Monroe

Sweet Idleness, you linger at the door

To lead me down through meadows cool with shade

Indian Dancers

© Sarojini Naidu

Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light;
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of desire,
And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.
The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair,

In Country Sleep

© Dylan Thomas

Night and the reindeer on the clouds above the haycocks
And the wings of the great roc ribboned for the fair!
The leaping saga of prayer! And high, there, on the hare-
Heeled winds the rooks
Cawing from their black bethels soaring, the holy books
Of birds! Among the cocks like fire the red fox

Stanzas. -- April, 1814

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even:
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.

The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto III.

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

III A Paradox
To tryst Love blindfold goes, for fear
He should not see, and eyeless night
He chooses still for breathing near
Beauty, that lives but in the sight.

Songs Set To Music: 4. Set By Mr. Smith

© Matthew Prior

Come, weep no more, for 'tis in vain;
Torment not thus your pretty heart;
Think, Flavia, we may meet again,
As well as that we now must part.

Mountains

Rifted mountains, clad with forests, girded round by gleaming pines,

Where the morning, like an angel, robed in golden splendour shines;

Sonnet XVIII. The Fireside.

WITH what a live intelligence the flame
Glows and leaps up in spires of flickering red,
And turns the coal just now so dull and dead
To a companion not like those who came

Health, An Eclogue

Now early Shepherds o'er the Meadow pass,
And print long Foot-steps in the glittering Grass;
The Cows neglectful of their Pasture stand,
By turns obsequious to the Milker's Hand.