Music poems

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With Wordsworth At Rydal

© James Thomas Fields

THE GRASS hung wet on Rydal banks,
The golden day with pearls adorning,
When side by side with him we walked
To meet midway the summer morning.

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White Magic

© Edith Nesbit

This is the room to which she came,

And Spring itself came with her;

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A Love Song

© Duncan Campbell Scott

I gave her a rose in early June,

Fed with the sun and the dew,

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The Naiads' Music: From A Faun's Holiday

© Robert Nichols

Come, ye sorrowful, and steep
Your tired brows in a nectarous sleep:
For our kisses lightlier run
Than the traceries of the sun

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David

© Thomas Parnell

When e'er his flocks the lovely shepherd drove
To neighb'ring waters, to the neighb'ring grove;
To Jordan's flood refresh'd by cooling wind,
Or Cedron's brook to mossy banks confin'd,
In easy notes and guise of lowly swain,
'Twas thus he charm'd and taught the listning train.

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Elegy IV

© Henry James Pye

The solemn hand of sable-suited night

  Enwraps the silent earth with mantle drear;

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The House Of Dust: Part 03: 12:

© Conrad Aiken

The walls and roofs, the scarlet towers,
Sank down behind a rushing sky.
He heard a sweet song just begun
Abruptly shatter in tones and die.
It whirled away. Cold silence fell.
And again came tollings of a bell.

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For music

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

ALONG the shore, along the shore
I see the wavelets meeting:
But thee I see--ah, never more,
For all my wild heart's beating.

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To The Wissahiccon

© Frances Anne Kemble

My feet shall tread no more thy mossy side,

  When once they turn away, thou Pleasant Water,

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Man And Lathe

© Edgar Albert Guest

I'm standing at my lathe all day

And this is what I hear it say:

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Italy : 16. St. Mark's Rest

© Samuel Rogers

Over how many tracts, vast, measureless,
Ages on ages roll, and none appear
Save the wild hunter ranging for his prey;
While on this spot of earth, the work of man,

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Life

© Edith Wharton

We climbed the slopes of solitude, and there
Life met a god, who challenged her and said:
"Thy pipe against my lyre!" But "Wait!" she laughed,
And in my live flank dug a finger-hole,
And wrung new music from it. Ah, the pain!

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"The Laughing Hours Before Her Feet"

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

The laughing Hours before her feet,

Are scattering spring-time roses,

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The Rain

© Zbigniew Herbert

When my older brother
came back from war
he had on his forehead a little silver star
and under the star
an abyss

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Aspirations

© Mathilde Blind

I.
I SAW thee in the streets, so wan and pale;
  My heart, it shivered at the saddening sight;
Like a thin cloud thou wert, that though the sky doth sail,
  And threatens to dissolve, each moment, on its flight.

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The Sleepers

© Walt Whitman

I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and
  stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.

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The Peace of God

© John Le Gay Brereton

  So, in the bitter years when love and age
  Sneered at the youth whose sturdy heart withheld
  His hand from slaughter, till, in desperate plight,
  He flung into the trampling equipage,
  I have heard him mutter, as the music swelled,
  “The peace of God is on me. They were right.”

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Pauline Pavlovna

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

 Ah! your heart said that?
You trust your heart, then! 'T is a serious risk!-
How is it you and others wear no mask?
 HE.

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Tale

© Arthur Rimbaud

The Prince and the Genie annihilated each other probably in essential health.
How could they have helped dying of it?
Together then they died.
But this Prince died in his palace at an ordinary age,
the Prince was the Genie, the Genie was the Prince.--
There is no sovereign music for our desire.

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The Australian Marseillaise

© Henry Lawson

  We are marching on and onward
  To the silver-streak of dawn,
  To the dynasty of mankind
  We are marching on.