Music poems

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Elegy I

© Rainer Maria Rilke

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'

hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly

The Battle Of Ivry

© Thomas Babbington Macaulay

Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are!

And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!

In the tenth year of Yuanhe I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Jiujiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Penpu and heard in the midnight from a neighbouring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing-girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem - six hundred and twelve characters.

I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,

The Ruin And Its Flowers

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Breathe, fragrance! breathe, enrich the air,
Tho' wasted on its wing unknown!
Blow, flow'rets! blow, tho' vainly fair,
Neglected and alone!

Sandy Star And Willie Gee

© William Stanley Braithwaite

Sandy Star and Willie Gee,
Count 'em two, you make 'em three:
Pluck the man and boy apart
And you'll see into my heart.

The Dance To Death. Act V

© Emma Lazarus

LIEBHAID.
The air hangs sultry as in mid-July.
Look forth, Claire; moves not some big thundercloud
Athwart the sky? My heart is sick.

The Carillon

© John Le Gay Brereton

Alone
I sit in the dusk and see
Surely the living faces, dear to me,
Of comrades who have thrown
All that they had, the fruit of all desire,
Upon an altar fire.

Sonnet XVI: A Day of Love

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Those envied places which do know her well,

And are so scornful of this lonely place,

The Scene Behind The Carriage Window Panes

© Paul Verlaine

The scene behind the carriage window-panes
Goes flitting past in furious flight; whole plains
With streams and harvest-fields and trees and blue
Are swallowed by the whirlpool, whereinto
The telegraph's slim pillars topple o'er,
Whose wires look strangely like a music-score.

A Fantasy

© James Whitcomb Riley

A fantasy that came to me

As wild and wantonly designed

The Battle Of Limerick

© William Makepeace Thackeray

Ye Genii of the nation,
Who look with veneration.
And Ireland's desolation onsaysingly deplore;
Ye sons of General Jackson,
Who thrample on the Saxon,
Attend to the thransaction upon Shannon shore,

From An Upper Verandah.

© James Brunton Stephens

WHAT happier haunt could the gods allot

For loftiest musing to sage or bard?

Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

© William Wordsworth

Five years have past; five summers, with the length

Of five long winters! and again I hear

Aurora Leigh: Book Fourth

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

She, at that,
Looked blindly in his face, as when one looks
Through driving autumn-rains to find the sky.
He went on speaking.

In My Sky At Twilight

© Pablo Neruda

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The Pierrot Of The Minute

_A glade in the Parc due Petit Trianon. In the centre a Doric temple with
steps coming down the stage. On the left a little Cupid on a pedestal.
Twilight._

Ode To a Young Lady

© John Logan

Maria, bright with beauty's glow,
In conscious gayety you go
The pride of all the park:
Attracted groups in silence gaze
And soft behind you hear the praise,
And whisper of the spark.

To The Beloved

Oh, not more subtly silence strays
Amongst the winds, between the voices,
Mingling alike with pensive lays,
And with the music that rejoices,
Than thou art present in my days.