Music poems
/ page 188 of 253 /Five For Country Music
© Lisel Mueller
The bulb at the front door burns and burns.
If it were a white rose it would tire of blooming
through another endless night.
Verses, Supposed To Be Written By Alexander Selkirk During His Solitary Abode In The Island Of Juan
© William Cowper
I am monarch of all I survey;
My right there is none to dispute;
The Fourth Shepherd
© Joyce Kilmer
O Whiteness, whiter than the fleece
Of new-washed sheep on April sod!
O Breath of Life, O Prince of Peace,
O Lamb of God, O Lamb of God!
To a Blackbird and His Mate Who Died in the Spring
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Kenton)An iron hand has stilled the throats
That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee
And dammed the flood of silver notes
That drenched the world in melody.
Servant Girl and Grocer's Boy
© Joyce Kilmer
Her lips' remark was: "Oh, you kid!"
Her soul spoke thus (I know it did):"O king of realms of endless joy,
My own, my golden grocer's boy,
I am a princess forced to dwell
One Who Loved Nature
© Madison Julius Cawein
He was most gentle, good, and wise;
A simpler heart earth never saw:
His soul looked softly from his eyes,
And in his speech were love and awe.
The Rosary
© Joyce Kilmer
Not on the lute, nor harp of many strings
Shall all men praise the Master of all song.
Our life is brief, one saith, and art is long;
And skilled must be the laureates of kings.
Ode Written in Spring
© John Logan
No longer hoary winter reigns,
No longer binds the streams in chains,
Memorial Day
© Joyce Kilmer
"Dulce et decorum est"The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.
A Cry In The World
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Kine, kine, in the meadows, why do you low so piteously?
High is the grass to your knees and wet with the dew of the morn,
In Memory
© Joyce Kilmer
I
Serene and beautiful and very wise,
Most erudite in curious Grecian lore,
You lay and read your learned books, and bore
Main Street
© Joyce Kilmer
(For S. M. L.)I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea,
But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be
When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow,
And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go.
Songs Set To Music: 20. Set By Mr. De Fesch
© Matthew Prior
Since by ill fate I'm forced away,
And snatch'd so soon from those dear arms,
Against my will I must obey,
And leave those sweet endearing charms.
To The Nightingale
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Exert thy Voice, sweet Harbinger of Spring!
This Moment is thy Time to sing,
This Moment I attend to Praise,
And set my Numbers to thy Layes.
Free as thine shall be my Song;
As thy Musick, short, or long.
Three Songs
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Quickly, Delia, Learn my Passion,
Lose not Pleasure, to be Proud;
Courtship draws on Observation,
And the Whispers of the Croud.
The Tree
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Fair tree! for thy delightful shade
'Tis just that some return be made;
Sure some return is due from me
To thy cool shadows, and to thee.
The Spleen
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
What art thou, SPLEEN, which ev'ry thing dost ape?
Thou Proteus to abus'd Mankind,
Who never yet thy real Cause cou'd find,
Or fix thee to remain in one continued Shape.
The Search After Happiness. A Pastoral Drama
© Hannah More
"To rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the female breast." ~Thomson.
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 1 - 250 (Whinfield Translation)
© Omar Khayyám
At dawn a cry through all the tavern shrilled,
"Arise, my brethren of the revelers' guild,
That I may fill our measure full of wine,
Or e'er the measure of our days be filled."